Thanksgiving, like most American rituals, not so much a conventional holiday growing up, this year, new meaning, a yearning to embrace tradition of the most unconventional way.
Greg Brady’s fabulous student film aside, his version of what Thanksgiving means, those other Brady pilgrims, Indians, Carol with her hideous haircut, my vision remains as always; family, friends and tradition of the most untraditional kind… Hey, Christmas was all about lasagna in my house, Mom’s closest tradition of a Christmas feast consisted of red (meat and marinara sauce) and green (spinach and mozzarella cheese) lasagna, nothing close to poultry of any kind.
Cut to my own marriage, children and traditions take on new traditions. My husband, his version similar to Greg Brady, I felt complete those many years of conventional tradition. My girls longed for a bigger family, the thought of a boisterous, loud and sprawling dining experience at Thanksgiving, instead, our small nuclear unit, though loving, humor always injected somehow, the day never felt quite normal to me.
Thus, on this Thanksgiving Day, the first without my precious Mamma, daughters, soon-to-be-ex-husband, I find new traditions, visions of what means most. A day of reflection, sharing, cheesy Facebook status’, great friends, sumptuous eats, another year of good intentions to participate feeding the homeless without actually doing it, writing blog posts, life is what one makes of it, holiday or whatever day.
Carpe diem, baby. Grateful to be a whole person, figuring shit out, longing to be with my girls a better person and simply loving others as much as I love this wonderful life I see in front of me.