We had just put away the last dish from our Thanksgiving Day feast when granddaughter Olive clamored, “Now we can have the tea party!”
Lesson No. 1: Never even hint of such a possibility unless you are prepared to carry it out.
Lesson No. 2: It’s easier to follow through than to protest a 6-year-old.
So we pulled out the three-generations-old miniature china tea set, set the knee-high table, and proceeded to pour ounce after ounce of tepid hot chocolate and nibble on biscotti, amazed we could cram one more thing down our gullets.
Lesson No. 3: Skip the linen tablecloth.
Lesson No. 4: When the child says, “Let’s make this a tradition!” take heed. You scored a win — especially if you’ve graciously accepted the fact that the 2-year-old brother will spill the contents of every cupful. (He never asked for the tablecloth.)
Every year we wonder why we don’t cook a turkey more often, it’s so tasty. But, like the tea party, it wouldn’t seem special if we did.
As per tradition we went around the table to give our thanks. The primary thread was for family. Good health, a bountiful table and a beautiful day, helped weave an attitude of gratitude.
As a unit, we kept in mind the goal was to eventually sit down to a too-hearty meal, but included a strong dose of “me” time, meaning a long walk for the women, a run for the men, and a movie for the grandchildren.
We are a simple lot.
Our thanksgivings grew as the day took on visits with friends and then another set of children and grandchildren. This time it was turkey sandwiches and leftover trimmings followed by a hot cup of digestive tea.
IN THESE days of contentious politics teeming with scandals it felt good to deal with nothing more serious than a soiled tablecloth or scraped knee.
And for fear of sounding simplistic, I yearn for more days like that.
