Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday

My sister and her oldest son at last year's Thanksgiving. 

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I appreciate that it has escaped the commercialism that plagues other holidays and has, generally, stuck to its roots. I love the holiday's core objectives: taking stock of your life, showing appreciation for the blessings in your life, spending time with the people you care about and eating really good food. Seriously, I can't get enough of turkey. I could eat it all year long.

My whole family likes the holiday. My mother and grandmother both declared that Thanksgiving was  their favorite. When I was a kid, I relished the holiday. Not only did I get off from school but my grandparents often traveled from their home in Florida to spend Thanksgiving with us. Plus, my mom made ham and cheese roll-ups as an appetizer, which was the best thing ever.

It was a fun holiday to even learn about in school. I remember in fifth grade being served a Thanksgiving-themed lunch in the cafeteria that was shared by kids' grandparents. Afterwards, the grandparents and young students sat in a circle in the classroom and grandparents shared their wisdom. As long as I live I will never forget the grandmother who admitted that she married young and strongly advised none of us to do that.

Now I love Thanksgiving because I have a whole set of routines for Thursday, Nov. 24. In the morning, I go to the free workout held in the gymnasium at the YMCA. Afterwards, I go home and play an audio book while I make some sort of dish to take to my parents' house for dinner. Once at my parents' house and the turkey is out of the oven and cooling on the counter, my father will tear off pieces of the crispy, golden skin for everyone to snack on. Sitting at the table, we all remark about how we need to eat slow and enjoy the food my mother has spent the better part of two days making.

While I stay pretty steadfast to these routines, this year there were a few variations. My sister's children were absent from our table; they spent the holiday with their father. Also, a new individual sat down with us to eat: Martin, my parents' next door neighbor. His son couldn't make it so my parents invited him over for dinner. Martin is over 90 years old, has to wear an oxygen tank and walk with a cane but the man came with a hearty appetite and boat load of stories. He repeatedly said what a treat it was to be in my parents' home and how wonderful the food was.

The holiday this year reminded me that some things will never change. My family will always feast on the turkey skin. We don't even say anything anymore about it; my father silently handed us the slices of buttery, savory deliciousness this year. He knew we all wanted it.  But some things do change. My sister's kids are getting older and the holiday may continue to take them to other dinning room tables in the future. But it is OK. Martin and my folks proved that as long as there are friends, family, lots of turkey and generosity, the holiday will be special. This why Thanksgiving will always be my favorite.