Extra Gravy.

This Thanksgiving I traveled a road that I have traveled my whole life. It is the road leading back and forward to my history. My grandparents lived on this road and, as a kid, my family and I traveled it every holiday that I can remember. My brother and I sat in the back seat of the car, both of us alive with energy and anticipation. My cousins sat in the back seats of their station wagons on this road and eagerly awaited opening the doors at our mutual destination. We buzzed with excitement at the vast potential for fun that we were all contemplating. It was a special time as we all gathered at the Cabin for our holidays.
It is still a special time. Now, my mom and aunts live on this road. My grandparents and Dad and brother are gone. Much is different. But, much is the same. The smells and trees and mountains are unchanged. These remain as they were back then, when life was much simpler riding in the back seats of station wagons. Gratefully, these roads live as paths back to some very good days. Driving them now, I steer the car and my kids sit behind me, kicking my seat and exploring their own fantasies. They are going to visit their Grandma, who will spoil them and scold them and tell them about “how it was”. They will be polite and listen. They don’t listen to me, but they do listen to Grandma. I’m glad they listen to her. Someone should. I stopped a long time ago, but I’m her son and I think that’s my duty.
While much has changed, much has not, and this Thanksgiving, while not listening to my Mom, I will eat deviled eggs. I love deviled eggs. I love making them and I love eating them. Not everyone in my family shares this love of me eating them. As with many things in life that are truly enjoyable, there are consequences and sometimes consequences stink. So it goes. I will endure their scorn and threats and mean looks. Those eggs are good, man! I will also have ham and mashed potatoes and turkey and gravy. I will make mini-sandwiches out of the whole mess, including the stuffing and corn and I will be happy. I very much enjoy sandwiches and always have. I especially like sandwiches covered with gravy. My holiday meal routine has not changed in many years and I don’t anticipate any changes coming soon. I don’t like yams and won’t be eating them, same as last year and next year, too, I predict.
Some things that do change are my kids. Instead of ankle-biting and shadowing me all day long, they are on their own. They go play and have little interest in my program, unless they somehow need it to improve their program. My eleven year old son helps my Mom with her computer. She sits in her chair and mumbles curses at her laptop, then curses some more after my son fixes her “big” problem in less than a second. The generation gap is as clear as it has always been. This may perhaps be the best part of any holiday for me: The melding of generations. Different ages unite over a collective love of green bean casserole and gravy. A common ground is established at the dinner table. No matter our age or political, religious or economic distinctions, we come together at the table with love and buttery rolls smothered in mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce. We take our rolls and dip them in our gravy and all are happy at the same time. Being happy at the same time is the best kind of happy there is and I am thankful that holidays exist that make this possible. I am thankful for this and the warm, brown gravy on my sandwiches. I am thankful for deviled eggs….. Sorry about all the eggs, honey…. They’re just too good to pass up.