When I embarked upon yet another update of the home we have enjoyed since 1988, I was thinking about Thanksgiving throughout the years.
The worn but serviceable furniture, the stained but sturdy rug – they had stories to tell about the raising of our family and a parade of beloved pets. I felt nostalgic, but not paralyzed enough by sentimentality to prevent me from reimagining our setting.
My husband and our grown kids, however, put up a fuss when it came to getting rid of the family sofa. From a decorating perspective, this was non-negotiable. However, I got their point.
The sofa was more than a piece of furniture. It represented the comfort of family traditions. The more they fussed, the more I realized that too much change might tarnish the positive result I was aiming for.
Three movers later, not only the sofa, but that sturdy, stained rug had been happily relocated to the third floor. Opinions were respected, a favorite napping venue was preserved, and my project continued on.
I have encountered similar outcries when it comes to modifications I might suggest to the menu for Thanksgiving dinner.
Just tonight, Tyler was listing off all the dishes he was looking forward to eating when he comes home. “Homemade cranberry sauce is a must. Stuffing. Gravy. No awful green bean casserole. Forget the rutabaga, if you want. But definitely, scalloped potatoes. Mashed potatoes are nasty.”
When I reminded our youngest that this particular potato dish is only featured at Easter, and possibly Christmas, he dug in his heels.
“When I come home, we have scalloped potatoes.”
Scalloped potatoes it is!
I can prepare collards instead of brussels sprouts, and almost no one complains. I bake two or three pies because that’s my pleasure. Even though we’re stuffed, it wouldn’t be the same without them.
Food. Football. Friends. Lounging on the new couch.
It’s expected, after all.
And that’s what family traditions are all about. (c)