Thanks

 Looks like the Thanksgiving table will be much smaller this year.  Most folks will honor the  CDC cautions and keep their distance as COVID 19 seeks to darken the winter months with a spike.  People are probably missing their family members more this year after months of Zoom calls, Face Times, and all manner of restricted, distanced covered-up behaviors.  

Hopefully, the new normal will have a positive side, health benefits, of course, but also a reflection on the importance of family and not taking things for granted.  

Doing the holidays alone is an experience I wish for everyone.  Sure, it's rather sad, but at the same time can be enriching.  I've done it a few times, and like any good therapist will tell you, "it's just a day."

Whether you sit with no one,  just one, or your entire family, Thanksgiving, in particular, is the stuff of memories.  Rich in family lore, it was, for many years the only non-corrupted holiday.  All that has changed with Black Friday sales, pre-Black Friday Sales, and now pre-pre sales that would have people replace digesting their dinner with standing in line and crowding into stores for a chance to spend their money ahead of everyone else.  What's more, they do it.

When I think about the Thanksgiving table that my sister and I sat around, the stories easily come to mind.  My parents, my Aunt, and Uncle, often my Uncle's mother (whom we called Grandma), and my sister and me came together for the traditional meal roughly 15 times between 1950 and 1965.  Today, only my sister and I remain.  

I was given a turkey drumstick as a 3-year-old, so the story goes, and apparently put on a good show in displaying my pleasure.  The association stuck and a drumstick was reserved for me every year thereafter. Dark meat has always been my preference anyway, so I gladly kept up the tradition.  Long about 12:30 or 1:00 I'd wander into the kitchen where my aunt, sister, and mom ruled the roost, and sometimes get lucky trading some errand for the privilege of licking the mixer blades from the mashed potatoes.

One year, I was sitting on a piano bench brought to the table for my sister and me.  After a full meal, I forgot that my seat had no back and promptly fell over backward while trying to stretch my back.  Fortunately, by the time late evening turkey sandwiches appeared, all was forgotten.

Of all the memories, one stands out as the most memorable and most humorous.  It concerns the time my aunt and uncle were doing their best imitation of The Bickersons* about the timing of a homemade pumpkin pie.  As the pie sat cooling, my uncle contended that the pie was underbaked and needed more time. My aunt asserted it was done baking and just needed to set.  She won.  40 minutes later, when it came time to cut the pie, my uncle made two cuts and inserted a silver spatula under the crust.  He then lifted the slice gently and prepared to place it gingerly on a plate.  The pie filling trembled, the crust gave way, and the disintegrating piece of pie tumbled to the white tablecloth below.  

"The pie is underbaked," declared my uncle.  Nobody heard him because the laughter was way too loud.

*The Bickersons was a radio comedy sketch series where a couple spent most of their time verbally assaulting each other.  Look it up, it's still funny all these years later.