“The only constant is change.” — Heraclitus
“Things do not change; we change.” — Henry David Thoreau
From November 25, 2020…
As I write, it’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I’ve been rereading Thanksgiving Holiday journal entries from the past 12 years, plus my Thanksgiving blog reminiscences. A theme emerged which I’ve addressed before, yet continues to weave through my life — and the lives of loved ones — things change.
I begin this reminiscence and musing about the Thanksgiving holiday with the same quotes and sentiment from a year ago when COVID-19 was surging and many families and friends had to make the difficult decision of whether or not they would celebrate in-person, and how it might be different from the traditional holidays from the past. The only change in this introduction is I’ve been rereading 13 years of journal entries, and two years of Mixed Metaphors, Oh My! Thanksgiving: Things Change essays.
Things Change
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday for a number of reasons. A gathering and celebration with family, friends and loved ones, of course, an abundance of comfort food and pie, a sensual feast of taste, smells, and visual pleasures. There are hugs and kisses too, plus stories shared before, during, and after the meal.
From a Facebook post in 2017: “Thanksgiving features sensual pleasures that delight, from the inviting aroma of pies baking and turkey roasting, the abundance of the harvest displayed for feasting, seasonal flavors that invoke body memories, the confluence of loved ones, and in my family, the cacophony of competing conversations. There’s often family drama too, emotions run high and run the gamut of our lived experiences. Along with the food we pass at the table, we share our memories, affection, and gratitude, and if lucky, let go of our resentments and forgive. Hug your loved ones (ask first, especially the young ones) and don’t be too shy to say ‘I love you.”‘
I made my first Thanksgiving dinner when I was 19 or 20-years-old, when I received a phone call from my mother. “I need you to come home and make Thanksgiving dinner. Your sister Roz was in a car accident and your father and I are heading to the hospital. Roz is in a coma and we don’t when we’ll return home.” I had been my mother’s helper in the kitchen, yet never roasted a turkey, or responsible for preparing the entire holiday meal.
When I married my husband Frank shortly after that Thanksgiving, my mother invited Frank’s father and sister to dinner at my parent’s home. It was the first time in my memory that we ate in the living room at card tables with fancy tablecloths and my parent’s China, which is, at least in my memory, the only time we used it. Our kitchen was too small to have everyone sit at since it served as the buffet table.
Years afterwards, Frank and I for all the years we were married, except one, ate two Thanksgiving dinners, first at my parent’s house at 1:00 p.m. (where I ate heartily) and then Frank’s father and stepmother’s home around 6:00 p.m. Frank’s stepmother, Inez, was a ‘food is love’ proponent, and if you didn’t eat a lot, and enjoy her food, she took it personally, and assumed you didn’t love or value her. Oh, My!
When it became too much to eat two dinners, we invited both families, including Frank’s aunt and cousins, and between the two of us, we made a 7-course meal with three entrees including turkey, ham, and Duck l’ Orange. Frank’s Aunt Char, contributed a case of Champagne. After the meal was over, dishes finished, and pie enjoyed, family members returned home, except a few of the ‘fun’ relatives remained. We went to a movie together and saw, The Way We Were, and polished off the rest of the Champagne afterwards.
Over the past two-plus decades that preceded this year’s upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, I’ve celebrated Thanksgiving in different ways, creating my own traditions. Early in my recovery as an alcoholic, I shared the holiday with my recovering LGBTQ+ friends, allies, and people with no home to go to. We called ourselves, ‘The Orphans,’ and celebrated The Orphan Holidays together (click link in Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!).
There was also the year when I made Thanksgiving dinner for just my girlfriend, Tracy and I. Tracy was 20 years younger. Some of The Orphans never accepted Tracy because of our age difference for fear she would break my heart. She did, but I knew that going in, that there was that risk and probability, and today Tracy is a friend and member of my chosen family. Thanksgiving that year, we delivered a dish to her mother, because all the men in their family were hunting.
When I began my most recent lesbian committed relationship of fifteen years (which ended thirteen years ago), we created our own traditions. We’d alternate one year with my parents (we reconciled), plus one year when Cindy and I traveled to San Antonio to celebrate with her father and brother’s families, one year with The Orphans, and finally just the two of us. One year we spent it at the Eagle River cottage of our friend Elthea, and most often in our home, enjoying a traditional Thanksgiving meal while binge-watching series like The Soprano’s or The L- Word. We’d also have leftover turkey for sandwiches and more.
Since our relationship ended, or like my relationship with Tracy was redefined as friends and chosen family, I began my own traditions. As I’ve aged, some years I didn’t want to drive home to Racine alone during hunting season and at night. There were a couple of years too, when our parents didn’t want to make and host our large family Thanksgiving when our mother was having health challenges.
There were Thanksgiving holidays and/or years I made a Black Friday turkey dinner and sides, when I invited friends to share a meal of Thanksgiving leftovers, people who were estranged, or far from their families and didn’t make a traditional holiday meal. I enjoyed my individual dinner dates with friends in my home, including Julie, Dannie, and Tracy.
I decided to step in and suggest that I arrive a day early and help Mom prepare the dinner, bake pies, and recruit my siblings to help prepare side dishes, carve the turkey, get the food on the table and cleanup afterwards. I became her sous chef. Mom mostly supervised and the food was prepared to her specifications and seasonings.
When Mom died five years ago, Dad didn’t want to celebrate Easter that year. He was grieving our family traditions and Mom’s absence. We honored his wishes. A few months later, I offered to make our traditional Thanksgiving dinner that year and continued the new tradition for four years until the pandemic. I’d return home the night before and begin prep. Sister, Kelly had already purchased the turkey breast and ham, most of the ingredients for the dinner and the Thanksgiving-themed tablecloth, paper plates, and napkins. Dad would help us fetch the serving bowls, utensils, and pots and pans, and we’ put the leaf in the kitchen table which would serve as the buffet table.
Family members would contribute either pies, appetizers, or side dishes, including my pie-baking, chosen ‘Loud Family’ friend, Leanne. Sister, Cindy would bring an Elegant Farmer pie that would be warmed up in the oven in a Kraft paper bag. We always had an abundance of Reddi-Whip (Dad still does today!). Sister, Tami would sometimes arrive the night before or early in the morning Thanksgiving Day with Gemma, her daughter, my niece, and help do prep work, like peel potatoes, and Tami took charge of mashing them while I finished the vegetables, dressing, turkey, ham, gravy, and warm the rolls.
Sister, Kelly would arrive right before dinner with her famous macaroni and cheese which two years boiled over when she heated them up in the oven setting off the smoke alarm and one year actually started a small fire in the gas stove oven. We’d enlist someone to say grace. In 2019, we had Kelly’s daughter Casey and five kids, plus our niece Jennifer and her spouse Becky, join us too. Casey’s children, led by her oldest son M’Kye, brother Jace, and sister, Nala, became my sous chefs. M’Kye took culinary classes in high school this year and aspires to be a chef. I hope some day I’m invited to his Thanksgiving table to enjoy a meal he prepared.
Thanksgiving, 2019
After dinner, since I did most of the dinner preparation, I got a pass on cleaning up and dishes. Sisters Kelly and Tami put leftovers away, and to the credit of the men in the family, they did dishes. My final responsibility, after everyone took a brief pause, was to setup the pie buffet which usually featured four or five pies, and yes, cans of Reddi-Whip.
Last year due to the pandemic and surge in COVID-19 infections, Thanksgiving was celebrated home alone. As in other years spent at home, I prepared a turkey breast with traditional sides and made my favorite blueberry pie, yes, with Reddi-Whip!
Thanksgiving: Things Change (Again, Again!)
In September, I received both my flu shot and COVID booster and was cautiously optimistic that we might be able to celebrate Thanksgiving as a family again. My father was not due, time-wise, for his booster and then, both my sister Kelly and father decided not to get flu shots. I was less optimistic.
In October, my niece Casey and her children, including young ones not eligible for vaccination, visited both their mother Kelly and grandfather. Casey, who is stationed in the army with her husband Ben, hoped that maybe this year they could drive up to Racine and spend the holiday again with her beloved grandfather, mother, stepfather, and extended family. She floated the idea by sister Tami and I, but did not make a firm commitment.
Tami’s family and I decided to err on the side caution, knowing that a Thanksgiving celebrated indoors without everyone vaccinated with either one or both COVID-19 immunizations and flu shots, put Dad at risk health-wise. We decided to make alternate plans. Dad had also mentioned at one point that he wasn’t sure that he wanted a houseful of people as he did in 2019, when there were 17 guests in his small Cape Cod home.
In the meantime, after Casey’s last visit with her kids, Dad caught a cold that lasted two weeks. For Tami and I, it confirmed that we made the right decision. Almost two weeks ago, Casey decided not to celebrate with Dad in Racine. It was too late for us to change our plans. Tami’s family is joining her husband Ron’s mother for Thanksgiving dinner. I received my first alternate invitation to join them, yet graciously declined.
When Casey contacted us about her change in plans, I had already purchased most of the ingredients, including the turkey breast, to make dinner at home which would yield some of my favorite leftovers and allow me to binge watch films and other content. I received my second invitation to join a small group of friends, including members of my Pod Squad. I declined for the reasons stated previously.
In the last few days, COVID-19 cases have surged again in Wisconsin and other northern-tier and Midwestern states. Yes, repeating last year’s safer-at-home holiday is the right decision for this 71-year-old with underlying health conditions and as an emerging introvert. I’ll make my ‘home alone’ Thanksgiving dinner and binge-watch content over the four-day weekend.
Here’s my list, including a Thanksgiving holiday dysfunctional family drama* (one of my favorite genres):
- *The Humans
- Flag Day
- Passing
- King Richard
- Tick, Tick, BOOM
- Cusp
I’m grateful however, for friends, chosen and bio family members, and exes who have reached out me this holiday season. On Thursday, I received a phone call from my ex-husband and we reminisced about the past and reaffirmed our love and gratitude for each other. My ex, Cindy, called on Friday morning, after an emotional therapy appointment with my osteoarthritis psychologist coach. We were discussing the impacts of childhood drama on body issues, childhood trauma, and how it was impacting my progress. Cindy’s call was well-timed and we commiserated with each other. We are chosen family and friends.
Also on Friday, two Pod Squad friends and chosen family members invited me for lunch for thin-crust, cracker-thin homemade pizzas (my favorite!). I brought Cannoli from our local Italian Delicatessen, Fraboni’s. Our lunch turned into a five-hour visit. Grateful.
Since Tami’s family and I would not be joining Dad on Thanksgiving, we took a road trip together to Racine yesterday. We spent the day, told stories, laughed, reminisced about the past and had lunch from our family favorite burger joint, Kewpee’s, the second oldest diner-style burger chain in the world, right behind White Castle. Our pre-thanksgiving lunch was double cheeseburgers, French fries, and milk shakes or malts (Racine is also the home of Horlick’s Malted Milk, and Hamilton Beach commercial mixers for malts and shake). Dad will have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner with our sister, Kelly and her husband Bill on Thanksgiving.
Kewpee’s Pre-Thanksgiving, 2021
Front Row: From the left, sister, Tami, Dad, niece, Gemma, Back Row: Me. Reflection in the mirror, brother-in-law, Ron.
When I arrived home, I watched one of the films that was originally on my holiday-viewing list, The Eyes of Tammy Faye. Jessica Chastain was incredible (and unrecognizable as herself) as Tammy Faye Baker and the story followed the arc of the rise and fall of Jim and Tammy Baker’s PTL network, their greed, fraud, and infidelities that eventually became their undoing. It wasn’t a great film, yet was perfect entertainment for a relaxing Saturday night and an alternative to the news of the day.
Moments ago, I talked with my ex-girlfriend Tracy, from 31 years ago, when she was 22 and I was 42-years-old. Like the year we had a Thanksgiving together, just the two of us, when we delivered her mother a Thanksgiving dinner, I’m going to deliver Tracy one this year. Some things change, and some things remain (almost) the same.
What Does It All Mean?
Like the quotes that introduce this essay, both are true. “The only constant is change” and “Things do not change; we change.”
Wishing everyone a safe and joyful Thanksgiving holiday, filled with gratitude, the harvest of the season, and the love of family, friends, and loved ones.
Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!
Thanksgiving: Things Change (Again!)
Another Dispatch from the Hideout
Hibernation & the Holidays: Retreat to the Hideout
Comfort Food: Winter Blues, Holidays, & Weight Gain
Additional Reading on Thanksgiving: Things Change (Again, Again!)
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