Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays, second only to the Christmas/New Year’s day one/two punch. When I was a kid, Thanksgiving meant loading up the car and heading up to Eagle River, Wisconsin for a long weekend of playing cards, watching the parade, watching football, and stomping around the woods trying to fill our deer tags, preferably with that once in a lifetime trophy buck.
I would hunt Thanksgiving weekend, but never on Thanksgiving Day. Thanksgiving Day for me was reserved for sacking out on my grandparent’s “davenport” and enjoying the day’s festivities, though I would set aside a couple of hours for drawing and reading. I don’t think my grandparents or parents understood why I didn’t go hunting with the rest of our family, but it wasn’t anything too complicated. I just wanted a day that didn’t involve jacking around in the forest, marsh, or other forgotten stretch of property in Northern Wisconsin. Sue me.
I loved the smells of the Thanksgiving meal being cooked, the sound of pans rattling from oven to countertop and back to the oven again. The organized chaos and energy of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade fascinated me, the annual Cowboys and Redskins game or the Lions versus whichever team was going to defeat them that year. What made the Lions game better when they lost was they were arch rivals to my beloved Green Bay Packers; perfect if the loss was to my Packers. I loved to take it in, relax, and enjoy the day at my own pace.
I haven’t gone deer hunting since 2001, and I haven’t spent Thanksgiving in Eagle River since before I moved to Illinois. My love of Thanksgiving Day on the other hand hasn’t wavered. In fact, since the birth of my son, Dominic, in 2008, my Thanksgivings have only become more enjoyable. I now have a sidekick, a partner in crime to hang out with, kick back and play video games with, and get into trouble with. The day is more special to me now.
Thanksgiving in our house has evolved over the years. When we lived in Illinois, our house was where our orphaned or stranded friends could come and have a great holiday despite being miles from their families and homes. When we moved back to Wisconsin in 2000, we continued that tradition and in a way we grew our own family. Over the years my parents have become the orphans of our family, so they come down to our place for the day as do my sister and my nephews. We have a good time swapping stories, eating good food, playing games, and watching football, always football.
Our meal usually consists of turkey, homemade stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, fresh cranberries, and a choice of either pumpkin or sweet potato pie for dessert. The meal is filled with laughter, love, and a sense of family at its strongest. The magic and warmth of the season fills our dining room and our hearts, and our daily burdens are just a little lighter and easier to bear.
All of these emotions, these people, this time of year I’ve grown to cherish over the years and they bring me so much joy – I allow myself to take in the festivities and let them and wash over me. We should all be so lucky.
Happy Thanksgiving,
John
Uncommon Karma 