For people in the news reporting business, Thanksgiving has always been a time of stress and travail. “Where,” reporters ask themselves annually, “will we find some poor, hapless person who’s had some nearly miraculous experience, just in time for a corny story about how thankful he is?”
Truth is, all of us — at least in this country — have much to be thankful for every day. So it’s a bit silly to take a fall celebration like this and attempt to make it a spiritual experience for every one of us, every year.
My family and I are thankful, certainly. But for us, the holiday revolves around something far more primal and easier to understand than a grateful heart.
For us, it’s about the food and the people.
I don’t cook (unless you count heating canned soup in the microwave). I don’t know how, and I’ve never liked the idea of having to learn how. Searing a chuck roast on a winter afternoon, then putting it in a Dutch oven with a glug or two of stock and some vegetables, and putting the whole affair in the oven is as daunting to me as making a filet de boeuf en croute.
I do enjoy the purpose and act of sharing a meal with my family and friends, but in our house, the men do the cooking. My husband and son can both turn out prodigious quantities of food with apparent ease and — depending on how much wine is consumed in the kitchen — absolute dependability.
My husband and I sit down to a cooked meal every night, albeit in front of the television and not at a table set with sterling silver and bone china. Putting a meal together takes him about 30 minutes. He says it’s not a chore to a person who knows how to cook.
My recollections of childhood are not peppered with memories of Mama whipping up gourmet meals. My late bachelor uncle certainly loved to put his feet under Mama’s table, so the food couldn’t have been too bad.
His idea of a hostess gift was a hefty copy of “Modern French Culinary Art.” (It’s the same book that the famous chef Jacques Pepin found so challenging to cook from when he was a young cook in the French navy.) I don’t think Mama ever cooked anything out of it. When I got married, she gave it to my husband, and it’s a prized possession on his bookshelf.
As a young woman, my mother preferred to be in the living room with her and Daddy’s guests, perched on the sofa with a cocktail in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She was beautiful, witty and fun. No one complained because her hard-cooked eggs had a tinge of green or that her roast chicken was sometimes on the dry side.
She was hospitable. It came to her naturally; and my parents’ friends came to their house because they had fun there.
My late mother-in-law could certainly cook. She was not as comfortable and confident a cook as her son and grandson now are, but she was good — and she was the best hostess and party giver I have ever known. From the engagement party that featured a sailboat with strings of lights, lots of fireworks and an alcoholic punch that made the guests behave like pirates, to the truly elegant reception she hosted when her son and I got married, her parties had style and sass.
My parents’ and in-laws’ gatherings back then, and the ones we host now, have a common thread: They were and are about the guests. The joy of entertaining — and of sharing everyday meals — is about the pleasure of being with others.
Granted, gathering family and friends around the table for a marathon Thanksgiving meal that last for hours revolves around food, but it’s really about the people. The meal says, “We love you. We care about you. We want to offer you food to sustain you.”
All of us should do this at more than holiday meals. Invite your friends over. Cook. Eat. Drink wine if you like. Talk. Be grateful for the family and friends you share.
Don’t let it be a once-a-year chore that takes men (and women) away from televised football and leaves a huge pile of dirty dishes. Make it an occasion to be thankful and appreciative of the people you have around you.
At my age, there are people missing from our table now, including parents, in-laws and friends. I was thankful for them then and am thankful for my friends and family now.
While that may not be as good a news story as tearful parents being thankful that little Timmy got rescued after falling down an abandoned well, it’s a part of all of our lives that we should savor — and, yes, be thankful for.
Frances Coleman is a former editorial page editor of the Mobile Press-Register. Email her at [email protected] and “like” her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/prfrances.
