NOVEMBER 27, 2025 – Irrespective of its origins, Thanksgiving Day as our National Day of Thanks is a laudable concept. I like the idea that however polarized we’ve become, we’re still united in taking the day off to devour our Butterball turkeys and count our blessings. Many in our country struggle, of course, but the point of the day isn’t to dwell on what we don’t have but to highlight what we do have.
Today, my wife and I were guests of our younger son, Byron, and his wife, and their full-of-the-Dickens two-year-old son. After a considerable amount of food prep and before the little one’s nap, we took a stroll to a nearby playground where the youngster could wear himself out on swings, stairs, and climbing equipment. His (long) nap followed.
At 3:00 we were joined by Lyme neighbors across the river—Steve and Lin and their daughter Syd and her friend Ace. Steve brought his homemade rolls and gravy; Lin, her prize-quality pies—apple and pumpkin; Syd regaled us with her extraordinary humor about law school and work in a law firm; Ace surprised me with his long-standing interest in Chinese history, his command of Mandarin, and his familiarity with Chinese literary classics. Our by then fully recharged two-year-old grandson provided ample joy, energy and entertainment. In our group laughter and conversation over a most sumptuous feast, we found plenty for which to be thankful.
Every year I’m amazed by the efforts that are applied to the over-abundance of food at Thanksgiving. I know the feast commemorates the Pilgrims’ emergence from a year of extreme privation, but I’ve always thought it a bit odd that invariably we express our thanks for abundance by indulging in abundance. Each year we stuff ourselves with turkey, potatoes, and gravy, and such sides as yams, green beans, Brussels sprouts, rolls and butter and cranberry sauce, bottles of wine, and, most appropriately if not essentially, stuffing—all in advance of apple and pumpkin pie with ice cream. And in our family, thanks to Mylène, the feast is preceded by an extra-large charcuterie board laden with enough gourmet cheeses, slices of fine meat, fruits of the vine, nuts, and olives to make the guests wonder whether the turkey feast with all the trimmings is necessary.
In our gaiety and commotion today, we didn’t go round the dinner table for people to state aloud “for what they’re thankful.” Last Saturday back in Minnesota, however, Beth and I had hosted a reduced version of a Thanksgiving meal for our other son, Cory, and our granddaughter, Illiana, who had lamented that she wouldn’t be able to join us for an “old-fashioned New England-style” Thanksgiving Day feast. On that occasion, I’d asked Illiana to cite what she “was thankful for.” Her spontaneous response was as big as it was simple: “For life,” she said.
Leave it to a wise 10-year-old to hit the proverbial nail squarely on the head. “That pretty well covers it,” I said.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
