In all honesty, Thanksgiving is my second least favorite American holiday, after Halloween. While everyone else may have memories of friends and family getting together sitting around the dinner table enjoying a fabulous feast and interesting banter, mine are nothing like that. My family memories consist of everyone getting together, eating, arguing, laying around watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, followed by hours of football, then going to sleep. That was as festive as the weekend got, since there would be more disagreements and arguing throughout the remainder of the 4-day weekend. When I lived at home (and the few times that I visited after moving to Los Angeles), I spent much of the weekend hiding out in a bedroom while drunken arguments raged in the rest of the house.
My favorite memories of Thanksgiving are actually of a couple spent in Los Angeles. One year there was an “orphan” Thanksgiving for those of us who didn’t have family anywhere near or couldn’t afford to travel. It was basically a pot luck held in the recreation room of someone’s apartment building. The mood was happy, though; no pressure at all. On another Thanksgiving, an acquaintance of mine was out of work. He told another guy, a mutual friend of ours, that if the other guy and I would spring for the groceries, he’d make the entire Thanksgiving dinner for us; we could just wait at home and he’d call us and let us know when dinner was ready.
In reality, I had a couple of nice Thanksgivings in San Francisco, but they were the ones where I was either dating my French ex-husband or married to him. He was always in charge of the turkey, albeit with some input from me (baste it with white wine and butter, please!). I would make some of the side dishes. One Thanksgiving was held at his apartment with his French friends; a few more were held at our apartment (once we were married) and we invited lots of people. In fact, one year we made two turkeys in order to feed everyone. Of course, there was food for days afterwards. Once we took leftover turkey, dressing, salad, pie and plastic cutlery, put them in paper bags and handed them out to homeless people over the days following Thanksgiving. Not only did we NOT need to eat all of that food ourselves, but it didn’t go to waste.
My past two Thanksgivings weren’t spent in San Francisco at all. Two years ago, I arrived in Venice, Italy late on Thanksgiving morning. I ate pasta for lunch; had veal parmesan and wine for dinner; then attended a performance of operatic arias performed at a beautiful old church. It wasn’t particularly Thanksgiving-y, but I was happy. Last year I spent Thanksgiving in another non-traditional place – Las Vegas. A friend joined me from Los Angeles. On Thanksgiving Day we shopped at the outlet mall, had lunch at an Italian restaurant, did the gondola ride at The Venetian, drank here and there throughout the day and ended with dinner at Emeril’s Delmonico. Once again, not exactly traditional, but a good time.
Although I’m not a huge fan of Thanksgiving, there are things to be thankful for in my life. I’m thankful for having a steady job with good benefits. I’m thankful for my health and rarely getting sick. I’m thankful for the many travel opportunities in the past, as well as the future ones. I’m thankful for being the “mommy” of two beautiful Chow Chows years ago, who gave me immense happiness. I’m thankful for the few that have truly and deeply loved me. Right now, I’m thankful that you’re reading this blog! Now go enjoy your meal and make some memories!