Happy Thanksgiving

We will not be a family on Thursday:  Pat is  in California with the Blackhawks, and Rachel will be with her family.  With this schedule in mind, the Dahl clan congregated on Sunday to celebrate Steve's birthday and watch the Bears.  I do not take lightly the joy of being together- the boys have centrifugal energy in  their lives, and a "pause" to visit the home front is a gift.  My contributions were limited to an abbreviated menu of appetizers (guacamole and chips, cheese and crackers and pizza stuffed pretzels)  with a buffet of cheesy potatoes, ham and spinach salad.  Timing was precise, with the ham appearing as the last seconds ticked off.

I hated to soak up too much of the kids' time, because their time is so overbooked.  Rachel is in report card mode, as well as finishing her Master's degree course work.  Pat was between road trips.   Mike had just returned from a vacation and was recovering from a wedding.  Matt has been recording with his band, Pet Lions, as well as doing the grueling visual work at MrSkin.com.  Mike's girlfriend was flying out at 8 pm to her job, and  Matt's girlfriend had worked a 12 hour oncology shift and had been up for 28 hours.  I was pretty grateful for my tethered life, and the simple ability to feed and love my brood.  Steve was very honored that they chose to take a "time out" with him.  Gifts were exchanged, cake was eaten.  A momentary haystack type fight broke out among the boys, photographed by me, and condemned by Steve.  Walter the grand dog was not included, to Steve's relief and Walter's consternation.  A glorious time was had by all.

Thursday will find our abbreviated family dining out with friends.  Fake leftovers have been procured from Trader Joe's to accompany a turkey breast that we will buy at Dominick's on Black Friday.  I hope Steve will relent and let Walter join us, as I have bought turkey-bacon canned food for all 3 pups.  I will take the lack of dishes and cooking as a supreme blessing, though I will be missing my dad and the extended Joliat family, who will gather 300 miles East.  The beautiful thing about Thanksgiving is that we can compress years of memories into a specific framework- the pies, the fights, the dishes, the games, the travel all stack up to provide a scrapbook of our lives.  Mostly, it's the people.

On Thanksgiving,  my Dad would sometimes let me go to the Lions game.  His own brother would wisely pass on his seats, as Briggs Stadium was arctic.  I would layer my clothes, grab a thermos, and turn into a human popsicle.  I wasn't a sports fan, but I knew I would escape kitchen chores.  When we arrived home, dinner was served.  It was one of those rare holidays where we ate in the dining room, with Mom  bouncing up and down to refill bowls or reheat gravy.  Her mashed potatoes were too good to sully with gravy. Butter was enough.   She would stuff oranges with squash, which we all hated, because they looked good on the plate.  I dibbied the dark meat, Dad got a leg, and we had mounds of stuffing.  For Mom, it was art and theater.  For us, it was heaven.  The finale was a trio of pies-pumpkin, pumpkin chiffon and chocolate cream.  Every year I feel remorse that Mom labored over those chocolate pies, mainly because I did not like pumpkin. She wanted everyone to be happy.  We were.  Then we spent two hours on dishes (hand washing all the sterling silverware, good china and pans- it is the Joliat way) while Mom recovered with a cup of tea.

As a kid, I was unable to see that the food was the side dish, and the family the main course.  I have never been the cook, baker, kitchen deputy or hostess that my Mom was.  Some of my sisters channel her efficiency; perhaps my detour to the football arena short circuited my domestic wiring.  I would probably be a liability in my brother's kitchen in Detroit, at least until dishes. But I would love  the chaos and cacophony of the family, milling around, catching up.

Last Sunday, I was overwhelmed by the joy of seeing my boys encircle their dad with love.  It will be a beautiful memory.  On Thanksgiving, I will pancake all my wonder years, past and present, and give enormous thanks for my blessed, wondrous life, and the loved ones who inhabit it.  I know times are hard, challenges abound.  The future is uncertain.  On Thanksgiving, and everyday, I am the luckiest woman.   That I will have a son in transit,  a restaurant meal and a distant father celebrating with all my siblings and their families does not dilute my thanks.  I have the benefit of loving and being loved.  I have family and friends. Everything else is gravy- giblets or not.


PS- I had pictures of Steve's birthday, but my trusty Mac has crashed and cannot be revived- an ominous first failure for it.  So please just enjoy the family picture above- it makes me smile. And I apologize that Steve's turkey neck classics are also  currently locked in the same hard drive.  I am hopeful that my  25,000 pictures are safe....somewhere.  janet@dahl.com