A Little Schmaltz for Everyone

I've marinated the turkey in a buttermilk brine mixture since yesterday afternoon.  I've spilled buttermilk brine on the floor twice.  I will gently wipe the turkey and roast it in the oven for. . . I'm not sure how long since it is cut into parts.  Over an hour and under two is my guess.  I have bottles of wine and champagne.  My mother and I will walk to some of her neighbor's houses and drink a toast.  It is important to keep mom popular.  She is making the mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and green beans.  We will make a stovetop dressing when I get there, and there are cranberries.  Little puffy dinner rolls will go into the oven.  And, of course, there is the pumpkin pie.  

Very trad.  

I remember Thanksgivings as a kid.  We usually went to my aunt and uncle's house where my grandparents and others would also eat that afternoon.  There would be a fuss about the size of the turkey and when it needed to go into the oven and someone, it seemed, would get up in the middle of the night to start the turkey roasting.  The kitchen was a busy place in the morning as everyone pitched in to make the side dishes.  The turnkey never seemed to be ready on time, and we would all wait hungrily the extra hour or so until it was done.  Then, at the big table and the smaller ones around the room, plates were passed.  Later, all the men would be asleep in chairs, on couches, and laid out on the floor.  

When everyone woke up, there would be pie.  

And of course, that night, if you were hungry, you made your own turkey sandwich.  With stuffing.  

I remember the first Thanksgiving I eschewed the family.  My girlfriend and I went to Key West before the cruise ships and condos, when drug dealers and gay resterauteers were just beginning to bring city money to the island.  We ate that night in the old Pan Am building, the first international flight office in the U.S.  It was an old wooden structure that was part museum, part restaurant.  We ate in the terrace garden with other Thanksgiving itinerants.  The night was just warm, the terrace quiet.  Something changed in me that night that I have never been able to explain.  

I will take a walk and then put the turkey in the oven.  I will go to my mother's at noon.  We will eat in the early afternoon.  I'll have the Lions/Bears game on in the background.  I read this morning that the Macy's Parade has been the most watched television event for three years running.  Why is it so?  I can only guess that in a world of chaos, people are yearning for old traditions that hold a transcendent sacredness, a secular moment in which one may step back into a mythical time that connects people, families. . . community.  

And so. . . I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving.  For those of you who are solitary this holiday. . . I've done that many, many times, too.  Don't feel alone, though.  We all still love you.  I'll lift a glass in toast to you my brothers and sisters.  And for those of you suffering through another family gathering. . . well. . . ha!. . . the best of luck to you, as well.  

Here's a little T-day schmaltz for everyone.