Thanksgiving Musings

Thanksgiving is the kick-off for what I have referred to as "the 30 day stuffing".  The turkey being stuffed being ME!  I heard a commentator the other day encourage people to quit agonizing over the unhealthiness of the Thanksgiving meal.  It is by definition a day of pure gluttony.  After all the Pilgrims were celebrating a bountiful harvest that gave them plenty of food for a feast.  (They also had to eat as much as they could before the things that couldn't be wintered spoiled or rotted!) 

Today we celebrate being able to eat all we want without feeling guilty for not eating low-fat, low-calorie, low-cholesterol, low-salt, sugar free foods.  I can tell you no one in my house suffered by eating healthy!

Thanksgiving for us is all about tradition, as it is in most homes.  We use the dishes hubby and I received for wedding gifts, the silverware from my Aunt Gertrude, the candlesticks from a first Christmas, a serving platter from my mother-in-laws family, and decorations including acorns and buckeyes collected by the grandkids.  Every dish has a story and a history.  Everyone's favorite is the "Dead Salad".  Years ago, when my children were young, they eagerly looked forward to church pot lucks.  As with most churches the ladies outdid themselves bringing their best foods.  One widow lady would often bring a molded salad consisting of pineapple, nuts, cream and cream cheese.  The only other time she made this salad was to take to a bereaved family after a death.  She said you had to come to a church pot luck to eat it before you were dead--thus she called it her Dead Salad.  In memory of this lovely, if quirky, lady we always have Dead Salad on Thanksgiving.

It also is the one time I don't bow to the trend to casual entertaining.  I lovingly set the table with linens, china, and silver.  (I spent one whole evening polishing the damn stuff but the dining room gleamed!)  We have candlelight and a centerpiece.  This year we had a small crowd and there was room at the table for the boys to join the adults.  Usually, the young people are seated in the kitchen or at a small table to themselves, which they actually enjoy because of limited adult supervision. 

With wide eyes the "little boys" came into the dining room.  They were directed to their places and stood beside their chairs waiting for the signal to eat.  I held my breath, since these two at four and seven are just barely "housebroken".  Under normal circumstances their eating area tends to look like the aftermath of a "dirty bomb".   I had placed them with an adult on each side to supervise but had set a full table setting for them both.  

The food was passed with the adults helping the little ones serve themselves.  I smiled to overhear my son instruct his seven year old that the "little" fork was for his salad.  He then gently touched an eager arm and told the four year old to wait until everyone was served to begin eating.  The little boys behaved like little gentlemen, eating quietly and neatly, obviously feeling the weight of the occasion.  I was proud of them.  I believe that children rise to the occasion and should be included.  They proved me right. 

Of course, it didn't affect the near free-for-all as they fixed sandwiches out of the left-overs a few hours later.