family traditions

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Thanksgivings Past and Present


Thanksgiving is a favorite holiday with my family.  We love to cook.  Cooking, to me, is a release of my pent-up creativity.  I spend hours thinking of the menu and the recipes; combing cooking magazines and websites.  But, somehow, I always return to our traditional menu for the big holiday.

I would have to say my favorite time during Thanksgiving Day is being in the kitchen with my daughters.  Both of them have picked up my love for cooking and it is a common bond we share.  Some families discuss politics, some sports, my daughters and I talk recipes.   It brings me great pleasure to watch as they find a new recipe and tweak it to make it their own.  Cooking together is a tradition that goes back to my mother and me side by side in the kitchen.   One of my first memories is standing on a chair, stirring tomato soup, as my mother made grilled cheese sandwiches for the family.  It is no wonder that combination is still one of my favorite comfort foods.

My mother was an amazing cook.  Many times, when money was scarce she could still make an incredible pot of chicken noodle soup or my favorite, beef vegetable.  Her forte was fried chicken or round steak with heaping batches of mashed potatoes oozing butter.  Later in life, when I tried to duplicate her recipes for the chicken and steak, I realized she pretty much deep-fried them in butter.  No wonder they tasted so good.  It took me many years to modify her dishes to more healthy servings.  Still, from my mother I learned a love of creating in the kitchen.  The joy it brings to serve a nutritious, delicious, meal to family and friends.  The feeling of giving a part of yourself; a creation sent from the heart.

This is my first Thanksgiving without my mother’s physical presence here on earth.  I say it that way because my mother passed away last February of dementia.   However, for the last few years she was alive she did not truly participate in the rituals of the holiday.  The final time she came to my house for the big meal, she was anxious about not being in the routine of her assisted living home.  She did not enjoy the loud laughter of the many guests and family that mingled throughout the kitchen and family room.  She would not take her eyes off me because my face was the only one she recognized.  Just as we were carving the turkey and placing the food on the table, she demanded to be taken home.  No attempts at persuading her otherwise worked.  So we wrapped the turkey in foil, placed dishes back in the oven and my daughter and her cousin drove Mom home while the remainder of us waited with another glass of wine.  As my mother walked out the door, I felt in my being she would not spend another holiday with me in my home.  It was too much for her.

There is sadness in knowing she and my father are no longer with me.  Thanksgiving 2000 was the last time both my parents were at my house.  Dad passed away the following February.   In my mind I remember the holiday as being perfect and that is the way I like to leave it.  Mom watched as I bustled around the kitchen, Dad helped set the table and clean up.  The ritualistic routines Mom and I had established so many years before in my mother’s kitchen became mine.  That final holiday together Mom and Dad were content to pass on the family traditions to me and my budding family.  And so, I hope that with this Thanksgiving and many more to come I will be able to establish old and new traditions with my girls and create perfect memories.

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Over indulged? I think not.


I celebrated my 54th birthday yesterday.   October 21, 2012.  I reveal my age for several reasons.  One, I am proud to say that as a 50 something woman, I am still learning and growing.  A part of life which I believe should never stop.  Two, I have never been afraid or ashamed of my age.  Yes, I admit that there were and are times in my life in which I was shocked by my accumulation of years.  But, most of all I am proud of the way I am turning out.  At this stage in my life and maybe it is because of age, I like who I am.  I hope I have many years left in which to continue to grow into the person I want to be.
Therefore, I believe in celebrating birthdays.  I enjoy being the center of attention.   Lavished with Happy Birthday wishes by cards, the internet, face to face, I will take them anyway the good intentions come.  As we women toil along in our lives there are many times we can feel invisible.  Our children and husbands have come to expect the big and small gestures we do for them.  Right now in my life, I do a lot of my work from home.  The commute to my home office, in a converted bedroom, is very short.  Because of this and also the fact that, I was a stay at home Mom for many years, my family assumes that I will do all of the grocery shopping, errand running and general house maintenance.  On the days when I do travel with my other job to local schools, for The Scotia-Glenville Traveling Museum, the assumptions are still the same.  I don’t mind being the person who is in charge of these matters, what does bother me is the fact it is all assumed and never appreciated.
Every year, as my birthday approaches, I don’t hesitate to remind my family of the upcoming day.  I have no intention of being a martyr and secretly hoping for a celebration, but not getting what I want or perhaps need.  And, my family, over time, has learned to do the day big.  On different years, my birthday has turned into more than a day.  It has spread itself out to include perhaps the weekend or even week.  This year, since my birthday fell on Sunday, I took advantage of the whole weekend.  On Saturday I watched Purdue play football. (Once again struggling to remain part of the faithful with the ending score).  My husband took me out to dinner that evening.  Sunday, my family surprised me with an amazing, over the top brunch, in Saratoga Springs.  Then Paul and drove to the Adirondacks to pick up our season passes at Gore Mountain and just enjoy one of our favorite areas.  It was all about me and I loved it.  No regrets, no worries about anyone else.  Only thoughts of, what I wanted.
All woman should have a few days every year where they are the center of attention.  A day where they are not invisible.  A day when all of the acknowledgments, that should be said daily, are said with sincerity and love.  Yesterday was my day.

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Everything I Hold Dear


One day, soon after my mother had passed away, a thought struck me.  I was listening to an interview about the education system in the U.S.  I felt myself think, education is one of the most valuable tools we can give our children.  I thought of this belief as my own, but I realized my mother had said it many times.  Suddenly, it became evident to me, many of my beliefs about life were influenced by my parents.  This came as a shock to me, not because I never realized my parents, or any one’s for that matter, have an influence on your life.  The shock came that I still held fast to so many of those beliefs and had taken them on as my own. Thinking back to conversations with my mother I remembered how her father had influenced her with his thoughts on education.   I struggled with the image of myself, as a 50 something woman,  still a child clinging to her parents beliefs. Did I truly believe these ideals or was I just repeating them?

My conclusion is this.  My beliefs are my own, because I have chosen them as such.  That is not to say, those beliefs are not the same or similar to the ones my parents had.  But, I’m not sure that is a bad thing.  I also realize that I have altered some of my beliefs to fit into life lessons I have learned.  And in the end, isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?  Give you a foundation from which to build your own house? I then realized, with both of my parents dead, I am the one to carry on those beliefs or let them fade.   I am the keeper of our family torch.  One that I hope to keep well lit.