For millions of American families, Thanksgiving and the day before aren’t spent cooking. They’re spent traveling. A friend of ours and her son are flying to Toronto to visit cousins. Another family we know is driving to Massachusetts to see the grandparents. A colleague is headed to Chicago to meet her boyfriend’s parents.
But for the first time since my kids were born, we’re staying home for Thanksgiving. And I for one am giving thanks for a day without travel.
For years, we’ve braved the traffic nightmares the Wednesday night before turkey day to rendezvous with relatives out of state. Or we’ve gotten up first thing Thursday morning and headed out to the ‘burbs to dine with my sister and her family, or my husband’s sister and her family. No matter what we do to avoid the traffic, we often end up in the middle of it.
One year I even got up early, cooked a whole turkey, with stuffing, gravy and all the trimmings, and then carefully transported it by car to the home of a friend who was giving a huge Thanksgiving potluck supper. This particular friend is German, and her friends are from all over the world. As it turned out, we were just about the only people who brought traditional Thanksgiving food. There were stir-fried vegetables, pasta and all kinds of other wonderful things to eat, but nothing much else that had anything to do with Thanksgiving. The other guests all eyed the stuffing suspiciously until I assured them that although it might look nasty, it’s mostly just mushed-up bread.
This year, for a change, everyone is coming to us — the aunts, the uncles, the cousins, and of course, Grandma. We even have a few friends attending, including one from France who has never been to Thanksgiving. I don’t know what he’s expecting, but I certainly hope he doesn’t think we have some kind of ceremony related to the Pilgrims. And I’m ready, for him, with an explanation of what’s in the stuffing. Meanwhile, I asked him to bring wine because I figure he has better taste in the fermented grapes department than anyone else on our guest list.
When Thanksgiving is at your house, you have to do all the cooking, but you get to choose the menu. So I am looking forward to making a favorite side of mashed turnips, carrots and cream, in addition to the standard dishes, along with a beloved dessert, mincemeat pie. No one in my husband’s family will touch it, but a couple of the friends who are joining us like it, so I’m thrilled to have someone to share it with. We’ll see if our French friend is brave enough to try the mince pie, but if not, we’ll have apple pie too.
Altogether we’ll be a cozy group of 18 crammed into our small New York City apartment; I’m not sure where everyone is going to sit, and I don’t have 18 plates, so we’ll be eating off plastic and paper, and sitting on a collection of folding chairs, typing chairs and step stools.
I expect it will be a little crazy. But when the family dinner cheer goes up (“Rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub”), I’ll be adding my own thanks for the rare joy of getting to eat my turkey without having braved an X-ray machine at the airport or a long slow-moving line of cars.
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This week’s advice: Traveling for holidays is fun and a great way to see family, but once every few years, make a point of staying home. Let everyone know well in advance what your plans are so no one’s feelings are hurt, or if you’re game, invite them all to your house for a change. Some families alternate locations from year to year so no one is burdened with either traveling every Thanksgiving or cooking every Thanksgiving. And some families rendezvous at inns or resorts so that no one has to do any cooking or cleaning up.
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