My mother used to wake up around five to make the stuffing then she’d stuff the turkey and put it in the oven. I’d wake up to the aroma of turkey wafting through the house. We four kids would settle in front of the TV, still in our pajamas, and watch the Thanksgiving Day parade. We’d snack on tangerines, mixed nuts still in the shell and M&M’s. We’d fight over using the nucracker. Dinner was usually around two, and it was always pretty much the same menu: turkey, my mother’s wonderful stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce with the decorative ridges from the can, peas, asparagus in the can for my father and a roving vegetable, a different one each year. Dessert was always pie: an apple and a lemon meringue and sometimes a blueberry cobbler. The kitchen was small and always hot from the turkey cooking. The windows were steamed. My dad always wanted the drumstick, and the rest of us usually chose the white meat. When we got older, we’d also eat the dark. I remember making the well in my mashed potatoes for the gravy and trying hard not to let it overflow the bank of potatoes. Our plates were groaning and so were we after dinner. My dad watched football, and the rest of us sometimes played a game or just sat around talking. My mother always cleaned up after dinner.
Today I am thankful for so many things. I am thankful for the love of my family and friends, and I am thankful for a head filled with incredible memories and for a childhood which had wonder and joy. Marty Barrett will always have my thanks. It was he who infected me with Barrett’s disease, my envy for his trips to England when he visited his grandmother. When I was eleven, I vowed to out-travel Marty, and I’m betting I have. I am thankful for all of you who have become my friends even though we have never met in person. I wish you all the blessings of the day and a wonderful Thanksgiving.
