Of Thanksgivings Past

We will be in Charleston, S.C., for Thanksgiving this year. This is a break with tradition, which usually has us at home, doing the usual big turkey dinner with all the trimmings. One year we went to England for Thanksgiving. That was a wonderful experience. Another year our son-in-law Paul and our daughter Sasha visited us and Paul cooked the turkey. Those were all special holidays but this year we thought we would do something different and head out of town. I suppose it will be a bit strange to be eating food other than turkey and dressing on Thanksgiving. We had a roast chicken last week with dressing, cranberry sauce etc., so I feel like I have had my Thanksgiving meal. I won't feel deprived. It's just such a quintessential American family holiday that I think not being around family may be the strangest part of all. I still remember Thanksgivings from my childhood and many as an adult. There's something about all that warmth that sticks with you. My best Thanksgiving memory of all was in 1968, our first one away from family and home. We had moved to Colorado and had been invited to join friends for dinner at their house. It snowed all day, the first really big snowfall I had ever seen in my life. By late afternoon and evening, the whole valley we lived in looked like a scene out of Currier and Ives. We spent the day in front of a big fireplace with the wonderful smells of a standing rib roast (sorry, no turkey) and Yorkshire pudding. Outside, the snow was "deep and crisp and even." Inside, we were snug and warm with new friends as we started out on our life's adventure on our own. It was magical.