Thanksgiving Day is filled with memories. The smell of the kitchen while the turkey cooked was nearly sublime. I used to sneak and open the oven to steal the crisp end of the stuffing hanging out of the turkey. I remember being shocked when I was a kid to find out the stuffing was not in the turkey’s head. The kitchen windows were steamed from the heat of the oven while the turkey cooked. All four stove burners had pots filled with vegetables. I especially remember one pot because I think my mother had it forever. The pot had a dent and a black spot on the side which never disappeared. It usually held the potatoes.

We watched the Macy’s parade. We snacked while we watched. I remember tangerines, M&M’s and mixed nuts in the shell served in a special bowl. The nutcracker was thick metal and looked a bit like scissors in having two sides. I always thought the walnuts were the hardest to crack. I liked the Brazil nuts but not the almonds. I’m still not a fan of almonds.

Befitting the occasion, we sat in the dining room. The table always looked lovely covered in a holiday tablecloth and set with special dishes. As my family got bigger, we ran out of room at the table so the overflow ate in the kitchen.

My father always wanted a drumstick. The rest of us, except my brother the vegetarian, weren’t particular. We ate both white and dark meat. I remember passing the filled dishes around the table took some maneuvering with the table so tightly packed with food.

My father ate quickly so he could get back to his football games. The rest of us sat at the table to finish eating. Soon enough, the table emptied, and my mother and I tag-teamed for the cleanup. I cleared the table, and she loaded the dishwasher, and we both cleaned the kitchen. After everything was cleared, we brought out the pies. The always pies were apple and lemon meringue. Sometimes they’d be blueberry, pumpkin or sweet potato. My father loved his apple pie with cheddar. That’s a New England thing. I had lemon meringue.

Today I’ll miss family and friends. It will be a quiet Thanksgiving. I’ll wear my turkey earrings, and I may even get dressed.

I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving.

From inside, the world looks lovely, filled with bright sun and a light blue sky, but if you go out, dress warmly. It is windy and cold. Tonight will get down to the 20’s. Tonight is winter

I have ordered my Thanksgiving dinner. It will be ready for pick-up Wednesday afternoon. Dinner comes with all the fixings, and I added rolls and a piece of chocolate cream pie for dessert.

My sisters and I remember well Thanksgiving day and our mother’s turkey. It was always huge, big enough to feed the six of us for days. She used to get up at the crack of dawn Thanksgiving morning to stuff the bird and get it in the oven. We usually ate around two so the turkey cooked for hours and hours. The menu was our own traditional dinner, usually the same from year to year.

My mother made great stuffing. She used Bell’s rich with sage to season it. I love the creamed onions, one of my dad’s favorites, and they always had a spot near him on the table. I haven’t had creamed onions in years and writing about them makes me want to change that. Turkey was the star but mashed potatoes was a close second. I can still see my mashed potato mound with a dip in the middle to hold the gravy which still ran down the sides of my mound anyway. The table groaned with the weight of the dishes, and we kept having to rearrange them to make room for the next dish. My father had a small dish of canned asparagus in front of him and he didn’t have to share. Also around the table were the sweet potatoes, sometimes mashed and sometimes in their skins, a green bean casserole, a squash casserole we all love and maybe peas and carrots. The cranberry sauce almost always came from the can. I remember once my mother hollowed out oranges and filled them with a cranberry orange sauce she’d made. I loved it, but it wasn’t universally welcomed to the Thanksgiving table. After that we stuck with the can and the decorated cranberry sauce. I did think it was decorative. I didn’t know the lines were imprints from the can.

Dessert was always assorted pies: apple for my father, lemon meringue and sometimes blueberry and pumpkin. My mother made all of them. I ate all of them.