Thanksgiving 2022

Another Thanksgiving is in the books.

This holiday is a reminder that nothing stays the same, starting with the meal itself.

Some 50 years ago I’d have been sitting in the dining room of my parents’ house, fighting with my siblings over who was going to get the legs and dark meat of the turkey because again, as the youngest, I was the last to have access to the dinner plate. With only white meat remaining, I’d load up instead on the stuffing, made in the cavity of the turkey and drenched in turkey juice...sinfully scrumptious. String bean casserole, jellied cranberry sauce from a can, salad and sliced white bread rounded out the meal.

Over the years, I replaced that canned cranberry sauce with cranberry apple crisp, a recipe first given to me by my ex-husband’s Aunt Inge 40 years ago. I brought what has morphed into a cranberry-apple-orange-pear crisp to David’s sister’s house this year. Initially I made it with margarine because Aunt Inge kept a kosher home, then butter because she passed away, and now Earth Balance, a vegan buttery spread that David likes, to healthily accommodate the non-dairy/kosher eaters in our families. I’ve also reduced the sugar by half and added more fruit for natural sweetness.

The stuffing, while still my favorite part of Thanksgiving, has been modified for the non-meat eaters, as it’s made in a crockpot, stovetop, or oven...nowhere near the turkey. This year it was made in all three places since the crockpot stopped working halfway through, and I had no choice but to move the heap load of stuffing around.   

These modifications don’t make a big statement, but the one-time “traditional” Thanksgiving meal has surely expanded over the years, in many ways. Pescatarians also aren’t expected to load up on sides as they were at one time; they now have salmon as their entrée. An added awareness of the need for diary free, gluten free and a variety of allergies comes into play each time we get together, depending upon who will be in attendance.

The size of these gatherings is always all over the place and will most likely never be the same as the year before. Whereas my parents’ Thanksgiving table accommodated a family of 6 plus some friends of my parents, pre-pandemic David and I had some 30+ adults sitting at multiple tables; this year it was 16 plus 2 sweeties, 1 and 2 years old.

While it’s impossible to guess what next year will look like, and who will be going where, it could potentially include a minimum of an additional three families and 4 more kids, just on David’s “side” alone. I am hopeful some Cohens might also join in. 

The absolute best changes have taken place outside the kitchen. In the past 5 years, we have added 8 children to the next generation.

I’ve begun to realize that the only constant is continual change...and a life that will look different each day.

 

Garage A, Level 4

David asked the other day if I ever forget where I put things. I thought he had to be kidding.

He said he had been working outside on the grounds of our home and wanted to reorganize his tools but was afraid that, in the process of relocating them, he wouldn’t remember where they were when he needed them next.   

Hmmmmm...I said, “Yea, I forget sometimes 😊.”

S O M E T I M E S? What a joke! Just days before, my own reorganizing efforts threw me into a tizzy. I had to buy yet another new crochet hook because I couldn’t recall where I stored my stash of at least 20...even though at the time, I was sure I had found the “perfect” place...but, a week later, back to Michael’s Craft Store I went.

A similar situation occurred not long ago with picture frames I bought for photos of the grandkids...saw cute ones, put them away in the “perfect” place and then couldn’t find them when I needed them.  

The reality is that about 10 times a day – at a minimum – I can’t find where I put something. Does this mean I have too many things? That I think differently every day and, therefore, approach decision-making with a constantly changing perspective? That I can’t hold all that info in my head anymore? All of the above?

I was fascinated to learn after all these years of talking about almost everything, that David and I hadn’t yet discussed the tricks we’ve come up with to resolve one of our biggest challenges...to find our cars in parking lots.

He said that on our annual trip to Maine – as well as other places he travels by air – he always parks in the same garage and level at the airport so that he doesn’t have to think about where he has parked when he’s headed home.

For me, it’s the daily errands that present the biggest headache. To combat the stress of my forgetfulness, I intentionally park in the same general vicinity of places I go to regularly, like supermarkets, restaurants, doctors’ offices and so on. This works well for an easy exit, so long as the chosen spots are available. The trouble starts when they aren’t.

When I have to park in a new spot, I run the risk of walking round and round the parking lot when I’m exiting and trying frantically to find my car. Sometimes I’ll press on my key fob to activate the chirping sound so that I can follow to my car but with so many other similar sounds, that isn’t always effective given my hearing deficiencies as well. I could probably use my iPhone to help me out but fidgeting with electronics in the parking lot is going to be, well...a nightmare, given I’d first need to find my readers in my handbag.

Even though I was soooooooooo embarrassed by it at the time, I often find myself thinking about the good ‘ole days when I drove around my parents’ “Cohen for Council” enormous advertising box that was bolted down to the roof of their Delta 88 Oldsmobile back in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s.  

Going shopping with that thing was absolutely the best, because I’d never have to wonder where I had parked. The sign always stood high above even the tallest of cars – no SUVs on the road back then – and truly was a driver’s dream come true.

David is convinced that 2 components are at play to explain the memory losses we experience as we age: 1 – We don’t retain as much as we were once able to, and 2 – We realize it’s easier to repeat our actions than make random decisions that require us to keep track of more details.   

As he shared his thoughts, another idea came to my mind but, by the time he was done, I had already forgotten what I was going to say.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

I gave birth to a Phillies fan but, the second time around, I married the Philly team’s biggest rival: a Mets Fan – whose son was a chip off the old block.

Their team allegiances weren’t something I focused on when analyzing the pros and cons of a union at that time, a move that would place 7 of us under one roof. I thought of other areas that could be tricky, but I viewed the 3 guys’ interest in sports as a unifying factor.

I soon realized that living with passionate fans of arch enemies could create a tense atmosphere, especially if their beloved teams were playing each other, one team advances, or whatever the case may be. That said, these guys were always very respectful of one another and there were no times I had to intervene. Yet, I still preferred to leave the house when Philly played New York, in any sport.

As empty nesters, David has had it easy with just me at home, as I am neither a vocal nor intense fan. I don’t bask in the glory of a win – aloud – and I don’t criticize the team or goad him after a Mets’ loss. Because of the wife in me, I have always been happy for him when the Mets advanced, although that is often accompanied by a twinge of guilt and sadness for my son if they’ve beaten the Phillies.

And because of the mother in me, I have always been thrilled for Michael to be in his glory with a Phillies win, and I’m disappointed for him when the Phillies lose because, to him, this team is family. I still have poems he wrote to me for my birthday or Mother’s Day that somehow always included his love for baseball, his favorite players at the time like Pat Burrell and Jim Thome, and the Phillies as an entity that gave him a sense of belonging and purpose.  

I overheard a recent conversation some time ago that David had with his sister, a serious Phillies fan for many years. She grew up in the same house he did and, like him, left home as a Mets fan but, unlike him, transferred her allegiance to the Phillies when she moved close to Philly so she could revel in the team spirit with her neighbors and friends.

Before the start of the World Series, she asked David why he couldn’t root for the Phillies once the Mets were out of the running. He responded that he could not start rooting for a team that he roots against all year long. He also said that Phillies fans would not root for the Mets fans, had the situation been reversed.

I took a brief survey of fans in my family to see what accounted for these differences, and my small sampling was divided along gender lines. I’m wondering if this opinion reflects one’s competitive nature, is a male/female kind of response, or something else?

I need to ask one of my girlfriends, a die-hard Phillies fan who spends hours listening to sports talk radio, this same question. She scolded me a couple of months ago for praising the Mets’ announcers, saying that Keith Hernandez is a jerk and that the Phillies’ commentators are far better.

Her comment, loyal to the Phillies through and through, might align more with the males I asked who said they would not root for a true rival under any circumstance, whereas the women I asked said they could, if their team is out of the running.

Frankly, given the length of the baseball season, which is followed by basketball, hockey and football, I’m glad I don’t have a strong feeling either way. It seems like rooting for these teams results in a whole lot of angst considering how rarely anyone’s team ends up on top.