Of all holidays, Thanksgiving has always been the one to hold the deepest traditions for my family.

The same dishes have been on the menu from the time I was a little girl, through my children’s formative years, and into a third generation with my grandsons: golden roasted turkey, savory giblet dressing, saucy cheesy beans (in lieu of the more renowned green bean casserole), and fluffy, sweet-tart Bavarian salad are just a few of the standards that, even after 40 plus years, would insight mutiny if left off the list of the day’s delicacies.

Vivid visions of my apron-clad Mom occupy my thoughts this time of year. I can still see her painstakingly preparing a king’s feast for her rowdy brood–deftly tossing flour as she rolls perfect pie crusts, fiercely whisking gloriously rich, velvety smooth gravy you could drink from a cup, and slapping greedy fingers as they sneak crusty bits of dressing bursting hot and steaming from a perfect turkey just pulled from the oven.

Dad and the boys would be dragged from the TV to pull out the banquet table and set it up in the living room to accommodate all nine of us, my widowed aunt, and sundry guests. Us girls would set the table and serve up the feast while getting first dibs on the coveted black olives before they were devoured at the table.

We’d sit for hours at the table talking, joking, laughing, but mostly waiting for our full tummies to make a little room for sampling the plethora of pies anxiously waiting to be tasted.

It was a glorious day!

The faces and scenes began to evolve over the years; but the scents, tastes, and sounds remained virtually unchanged. By closing my eyes, I could easily transport myself back to November 1981, when I was still 10 years old, and Mom was busy in the kitchen.

But, I am no longer 10. I am the mom, mother-in-law, and grandmother presiding over the feast. My Mom has left us and new faces grace our table. My children, with their spouses, are ready to introduce new dishes to our menu.

This year, a vegan green bean casserole, Pillsbury Crescent Rolls (Did you know these were vegan?), and a new stuffing recipe my daughter Julia is eager to try, will be joining the old standards.

While my heart aches with memories of the past, it also eagerly anticipates the new traditions ready to unfold. It’s funny how the heart works. It has an amazing elasticity to stretch and hold whatever you choose to put into it. Mine is going to treasure the memories of the past and make room for the traditions and changes to come.

Happy Thanksgiving!


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