Tomorrow is my favorite holiday. Thanksgiving. If I had to give a reason why it was my favorite, I’m not sure I could. It just makes me feel happy inside. There’s no stress about it for me, unlike Christmas, with the picture and the card and the letter and the gifts and the travel and the expectations and the music (which I do love) and the letdown. And then four months more of cold and dark and snow. Thanksgiving is just about the food and the parade and the hangin’ out. The day looks something like this:
And that’s it. Tom makes his incredible crockpot stuffing (which will be slightly different this year, with gluten free bread and low sodium chicken broth), I make pecan pie (my all-time favorite), and well…yum.
Thanksgiving has always been like this for me. Food, family, and fun.
Which brings me to my favorite Thanksgiving memory. I must have been A’s age, seven, when this happened. My Gram was visiting us for the holiday and she and I were watching the Macy*s Thanksgiving Day Parade. My love for this parade probably came from watching it with her; I still get all verklempt watching the Rockettes. So we were watching the parade together, my folks were in the kitchen working on the meal, and here comes Santa. The music is playing, Santa is smiling and waving, and he stands up.
And his pants fall down.
She and I laughed until we cried. Now, what you have to know about my Gram is that she was a proud Irishwoman, native New Yorker, and her personality was exactly like A’s. Outgoing, didn’t know a stranger, great sense of humor. She and A would have been best friends. She laughed til she couldn’t talk. She laughed until she could barely breathe. She told everyone she could find. I mean, Santa’s pants fell down!
Is this story true? I have no idea. I have tried to find online confirmation of this happening and come up with nothing. But it is truly one of my very favorite memories of Thanksgiving and of my Gram. I miss her dearly, and most of all on Thanksgiving Day.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, everyone. May your turkey be moist, your yams be marshmallowy, and your blessings be many.
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