When I was a kid, I’d wake up every Thanksgiving morning to a flurry of pre-travel activity.  Having been awake for hours, Mom would be in the kitchen finishing up her latest culinary masterpiece, and my normally calm Dad would be frantically hurrying us along to get dressed and ready to go.  Thanksgiving meant a trip to Grandmama’s – about a 3 1/2 hour car ride, and there was always the last minute rush to “get a move on.”

Grandmama’s house wasn’t necessarily over the river and through the woods, but we DID have to maneuver the Devil’s Backbone to get there, so everyone was instructed to eat an olive before we left (an old wives tale trick to prevent car-sickness  …to this day, whenever she’s offered an olive, my sister will respond, “No thank you, i’m not going far.”)

Thanksgiving dinner was very traditional:  Turkey, cornbread dressing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes,  pecan pies (there were always two, since that’s what the recipe would make)…my mother would always make something delicious and whimsical, Uncle Tommy would sometimes bring broccoli rice casserole, and someone was responsible for bringing the relish tray (which included an assortment of pickled things, olives (for the ride home), and fresh green onions).

My brother and sister and I (none of us big fans of turkey) would sometimes dream about the time when WE would make the Thanksgiving plan…we’d have a whole new tradition – we wouldn’t have food you only eat once a year, WE’D have food people like to eat ALL THE TIME:  spaghetti and meatballs, mashed (regular) potatoes, and macaroni and cheese!!

After dinner, the cousins would go out to Uncle Mike’s barn and (after being warned against burying each other alive) we’d play in the bin of just-pulled cotton seed.  Country snow, the seeds would get in our ears, shoes, hair and shirt creases, and we’d end up accidentally planting dozens of cotton plants along the way home as we flicked the stowaways out the car window.

A musical family, the day would end with a jam of sorts – Aunt Barbara and Dad and my sister on guitar, me and Uncle Mike on fiddle, my brother on bass, and my cousin – the virtuoso pianist – Michael at Grandmama’s upright.  It didn’t matter what we played, as long as it was among Grandmama’s favorites. “Faded Love” was a must!  “Goodnight Irene,” was always a good one – Everyone had a verse, as long as there were verses.  My brother and I sometimes had to share:

“Sometimes I live in the country
Sometimes I live in town
Sometimes I take me a notion
To jump in the river and drown…”

On the quiet ride home, we kids would doze drowsily in the back of the van like a pile of puppies, full of the once-a-year-food feast, and family fun.

Now that we’re grown, we each get to make our own traditions, splitting our holiday among inlaws, outlaws, obligatory parties,  and accidental reunions …and (hopefully) we get to steal a moment or two for ourselves.

And while we’re not planning our Spaghetti and Meatball feast yet, I’m very thankful for the time we get to share.

…to tell you the truth, as long as I know we’ll all be together, it really doesn’t matter what we eat.

Happy Thanks-giving!

What is YOUR favorite Thanksgiving Tradition?