The Thanksgiving Weekend Cometh

When I was a child, we rarely had Thanksgiving dinner at home.  As a matter of fact, I don't remember my mother ever making a Thanksgiving dinner.  Just before the holidays, my parents would assign my Grandparents their particular season.  You either had the family for Thanksgiving or for Christmas.  It went back and forth every year and they always argued about it.  They both preferred Thanksgiving.  

My Grandparents never got along; it was a constant battle between the Northern (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) relatives and the Southern (Danville, Virginia) relatives.  I teetered somewhere in the middle between Yankee and Rebel child.  To make matters worse, my Northern Grandmother called me "Terry", while my Southern Grandmother insisted "Terry" was a boy's name.  She called me "Lou", my middle name.  Yes, my Northern Grandmother insisted "Lou" was a boy's name.  Honestly, I don't think I really knew my name until I was enrolled in school and had to write it out on paper.  

If we had Thanksgiving at my Northern Grandmother's home, it was formal and elegant.  I was relegated to the kid's table, where I couldn't make a mess and it was a clear distance from her good china.  If we had dinner at my Southern Grandmother's home, I was still relegated to the kid's table, but her dishes didn't even match so it really didn't matter if something tipped over and spilled or got broken.  The food was good at both my Grandmother's homes, but it didn't matter.  If we were at one home, they complained about the other.  All I really wanted was for the constant fighting to end.  

Once I left home and joined the Army, Thanksgiving was still a major deal.  The story going around was that the dining facility managers would save up all year so they could put on a feast.  Families would come to join in and, in my early days as a single soldier, that sometimes left me saddened missing my own somewhat eccentric family.  Later, as an officer, we dressed in our finest uniforms on Thanksgiving Day and served the troops.  This was a wonderful and highly appreciated concept that unfortunately left me with an inordinately large cleaning bill once a year.  

At war, Thanksgiving was shared not only with fellow soldiers, but the indigenous insects.  But that only served to make you appreciate the feast more.  On occasion, we would sit around and watch video tapes of holiday movies or football games.  And the Thanksgiving care packages were always the best.  Cookies, cakes, and well...my father sent one with fly swatters for the entire platoon.  

When I got married, I began celebrating most Thanksgivings with my "pilgrim" relatives.  They aren't really pilgrims, but they do live in Massachusetts.  I look forward to this time every year.  The love felt in their homes makes up for any stress built up from the long drive or flight.  And sometimes, we even get the opportunity to visit historical places like Plymouth and Salem.  

So, tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  I'm going to do my best to be good.  Its been a year to be thankful.  This year is the first of many that I cannot remember the last time I threw my back out, my migraines headaches are history, and the only reason I have visited a doctor has been for check ups or vitamins.  My Stepdaughter is home, the kids are all happy and doing well in school, and I am married to a amazing wonderful loving man.  

Yes I am thankful.  This year, I finally understand football, and if I wish...I am healthy enough to go out and throw the ball around with the family.  Or if I so choose, I can just sit it out...  The point is, I have a choice.     

When you sit down with your family this weekend, just remember, when you do, try to make good choices.  In my experience, gorging yourself will only lead to regret.  This is a time of family, friends and, let’s not forget, being thankful.  That includes being thankful for our good health.  Celebrate wisely and make healthy choices.