Tradition: Picturesque Family
Thanksgiving is about the three F’s in my life: Food, Family and Football. If you asked my husband he would say that I come from the Cleaver (like Leave it to Beaver) family. They somehow appear to outsiders as polished and perfect. the truth is that my family is crazy with tons of insanity and fighting and lauging. The only time I think my family might actually appear perfect is on Thanksgiving, it really it so picturesque it is almost unbelievable
Once the food is ready we sit down at the table. Someone says a prayer, and then dad goes around the table and asks each of us what we are thankful for. Dad pulls out his power knife and carves the turkey. The plates are my mom’s fine china, the goblets are filled with something sparkly, most likely sparkling apple cider. We pass the food, which could feed 3 times the number of people at the table, and consume the food in record time complimenting my mom’s amazing skill.
There is general chatter and some laughter and teasing. It is exactly the sort of scene you would expect to see on some network TV show.
But all of that, every moment of it, makes up maybe one tenth of the reason the holiday makes me so homesick. Tomorrow I’ll tell the real story, the reason why every Thanksgiving spent in MA instead of OR is torture.