Our first Thanksgiving…

Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.  Family, friends, feasting…no gifting, just gathering.  Thankfulness.

As we prepare for a pandemic-altering Thanksgiving this year, I find myself thinking back to other Thanksgivings.  If you know me, you know there’s a reason I call Thanksgiving the ‘day of days’.  This holiday always delivers massive cascades of meaningful memories.  This year my memory banks stop on one Thanksgiving in particular.  It, too, was different and in my drifting back I’m quickly realizing perhaps this year isn’t as unique as I’ve been thinking.

Join me:

Thanksgiving #1; November 28, 1974; Lafayette Bay, the shores of Lake Minnetonka; engaged less than a month.

What’s the same? 

Unlike other years when we had to add kids’ tables and TV trays, our crowd was tiny – just three.  My dad, who was batching it since my mom was away at my sisters, MK, and me.  Just like this year.

There was more than enough wine.  Just like this year.

My hair, although far darker than these days, was what I now call ‘COVID length’.  Just like this year.

There was far more food on the table than was necessary.  Just like this year.

Smiles radiated continually around the table and happy laughter rained in the room.  Just like this year.

The feast was the centerpiece of the day.  Just like this year.

A lot of the dinner table talk that day focused on the treasured friendships in our lives.  Just like this year.

We all overate.  Just like this year.

Plus Thanksgiving is all about traditions like our annual wine glass. Just like this year.

What’s different?

Well, the wines back then were white.  They’re red now.

I no longer have that beloved amoeba-print shirt, although I remember it well and wore it to shreds.  Damn, how I loved that shirt!

While the majority of our table will feature the same traditional foods, if you look carefully at the photo, this year there will be no Jell-O with sh*t in it!

After our meal Dad convinced us we should each pick a spot in the living room floor and take a little snooze before attacking the dishes.  We didn’t wake until the middle of the night, still in the living room, left the kitchen disaster for Friday, and said our good nights.  I can guarantee there won’t be a dirty dish anywhere come Friday morning this year.

Of course, MK is missing, but the only thing fuller than our bellies will be our hearts.  On Thanksgiving, she used to call me ‘moose heart’ because I’d always make room for anyone who wanted to join our home and our table. 

This year will be no different…our moose hearts will be filled with love, gratitude, and thankfulness.

I hope yours is the same.

Wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving 2020-style