The Things That Last

Thanksgiving is filled with tradition, minus little kids dressing up in Indian and pilgrim custom. God knows we don’t wish to offend someone or traumatize a tike as we might share a lesson of sitting down at a feast with those who come from different cultures and coexist on the edge where life meets death. It was a harsh time back then. One can only image how a child survived the real drama of life when the crops fail, Paw died and red-skinned heathens were whooping up the devil outside the log cabin.

Whether it is bundling up for a trip to Lambeau Field to see the Packers (Just isn’t the same without Bret is it?), watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade, simply perusing the flyers for tomorrow sales or gathering with friends and family to enjoy a butterball with all the trimmings like Mickey’s cornbread and stuffing, American’s have created traditions. Each year a little variation of the year before and silently without any formal acknowledgement a new tradition becomes part of the tomorrow's landscape.

We gather in Worcester, because Jennifer cooks the turkey. And each of us becuase we come add the things that become tradition because they are glazed with memories.

It is the frozen fruit salad served on a bed of lettuce. One of Mom’s recipes. There was the year that it was accidentally made with three times the amount of mayonnaise that the recipe called for. It was horrible, but now we smile remembering the disaster as the mayo is carefully measured and the batter taste-tested before it hits the freezer. Each year we ask about the three French Canadians who shared our table and blessed us with their French accents and broken English. We bring a pile of blankets and extra socks to endure the 62 degree room temperatures and 55 degree night settings because…I never understand why, except that too is part of the tradition. And maybe it will be the apple pie and the attempts to make a flakey crust as Mom's.

Thanksgiving is about conversation. We share stories and photos, opinions and views. We tell tales of cats, big and wild, and solve the world economic crisis and a few other issues along the way. And don't go home mad.

Three Thanksgivings without Mom. Doesn’t seem like that much time should have passed. Traditions are the things we keep that are so dear. It’s a new tradition without her presence, but not without her touch. These are not harsh times. These are good times and we are ready to face whatever tomorrow brings, taking with us the things that last. The family.