Thanksgiving is a leftover holiday. Lots of food that doesn’t get eaten gets packed up and tossed back into the refrigerator or freezer to be pulled out for new meals for the next several days. I went to someone else’s house for Thanksgiving this year so I didn’t have a lot of leftovers. Ate the last of it tonight.
Funny thing is that I’m not even sure what all of it was. When I was a kid my mom always made turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and green beans. And then there was the cranberry sauce. And deserts. Pumpkin, apple and pecan pie. With ice cream. Same delicious thing every year.
Now what I get is turkey, green beans and a bunch of stuff I barely recognize. The cooks call them casseroles. Squash, spinach, sweet potato, oyster and chees, and macaroni and cheese. They all kinda look the same. Yellow and gooey. Same kind of texture. Same smell. And sometimes even the same taste. Now that may be reflective of my taste buds, or the skill of the cooks I know.
There was no turkey in the leftovers I got to take home. And no deserts. Just casseroles! Heat em all up and take a dab of each. Forgetting which is which.
Thanksgiving isn’t what it used to be. Crammed in between Halloween and Christmas, it’s almost overlooked. And often its meaning is forgotten in the rush to get to the Ho HO Ho of Christmas. Used to be that Christmas decorations and toys didn’t appear in the stores until after Thanksgiving. Not so anymore. A local radio station began playing all Christmas music several days before Thanksgiving.
It’s a leftover holiday. Leftover food. Leftover memories from an age gone by. Maybe one day it will disappear completely. I’ll be thankful if I’m not here to see that.
That’s part of my story. What’s yours?