I was looking through my photo archives the other day and noticed how faithfully I photographed our Thanksgiving table every year. This one is from 2011, when we had a guest along with the kids (I think my nephew, although I'm not sure.) I have always been proud of what I've made for Thanksgiving dinner. I worked very hard on the meal every single year. But unless Katherine or my nephew are visiting I'll probably never make a big one like this again.
Honestly? That's a relief.
Thanksgiving 2008. The tradition of the holiday being my burden started with my mother. She expected me to help with the cooking for Thanksgiving from the time I was five, and put so much responsibility on me that I could make the whole dinner by myself before I was a teenager. I've always liked cooking, but not the stress and effort involved in making holiday dinners. It was what was expected of me. Mom trained me to view Thanksgiving dinner as my holiday job, and I've handled it by myself for 33 years (exception: one year while in the middle of a divorce I went to a girlfriend's house because I was alone and had nowhere else to go, but I brought a dish and helped out with the cooking and cleaning up there, too.)
Thanksgiving 2017. In retrospect I find it remarkably unkind that every year everyone depended on me to produce a huge Thanksgiving dinner without ever once offering to take part in the cooking, serving and cleaning up (to be fair I never asked for help, as that would have shamed me.) I always waited for someone to care enough to offer to help, but no one ever did. Memorably my mother came over one year and sat in the kitchen to watch (and criticize me) but didn't lift a finger to help. After all the years she had to do it I suppose she felt she'd earned the rest, but what about all the years that I helped her?
Thanksgiving 2014. I didn't take pictures of the Thanksgiving when I made dinner for eleven people, the largest holiday meal I ever cooked, because I was too busy. I roasted two turkeys, made five and six times the amount of food that I usually did, and worked myself into utter exhaustion. That year all of the guests interrupted me constantly to pester me with questions (the worst thing you can do to someone who is trying to cook) or ask me to get things for them, but also did nothing. I'm glad I don't have any pictures of that one. It was the worst Thanksgiving of my life.
Thanksgiving 2020. Actually, my guy is the only person to ever offer me any help over the last 33 years. He can't cook, but he always pitched in to help serve the food, carve the turkey and later clear the table for me. For that he is a prince.
Thanksgiving 2015. Making a Thanksgiving meal is really a thankless job, in my case particularly so. I'm not bitter about all the work I did for so many years, but I am glad I don't have to do it anymore. Maybe some time in the near future someone will actually offer to make Thanksgiving dinner for me. Wouldn't that be wonderful? I'll tell you what, if that happens, I won't sit there and watch them work. I'll help. :)
Comments
Being childless we rarely had a big spread (unless we invited company). But Greg always insisted on a turkey.
We'd always be arguing at the grocery store because he'd pull out this 20 lb bird and I'd be looking for the smallest turkey I could find. LOL!
I don't think I ever convinced him that he'd be eating leftovers for days if we got that big a bird.
I did learn to get creative with leftovers, but in truth, the dogs got a lot of it.