Let’s Keep it Simple

Charcuterie boards, missing loved ones, and the sacredness of gathering—My Sunday Best #132

Let’s gather together so we can remember the things we have forgotten—the life we share, what makes us care, and the things we have in common.

I’m not a planner. You might call me a procrastinator. But I like to say I’m more of a “Let’s just wait and see” kind of person.

Ugh, those words I just wrote have a sting. They were some of my mom’s final coherent words. She said them only a month ago. Her family didn’t wait. We took action because that’s what the moment required; it was a life-or-death moment. And even though we took action, it didn’t change the outcome.

I hadn’t planned on writing about that, but words have power. And in my own words, I heard my mom’s. She said it first.

So this Thanksgiving, that will be the elephant in the room. I love that saying. And it fits. Elephants are big and beautiful with dark eyes that peer from a deep kind of love.

This is something we all have in common: at Thanksgiving tables everywhere, someone is missing. A loved one isn’t at the table—but their memory is. The green bean casserole that my husband Mickey makes was my mom’s favorite. Growing up, she made it with canned green beans. For Mickey, that is not an option. Neither are French-cut green beans. Every ingredient matters.

He got this from his mother. Years ago, during a two-hour speaker phone conversation, I overheard her tell him exactly what kind of butter to use in a recipe. It couldn’t be just any butter—it mattered.

I find this kind of detail fascinating. When I first visited his family in Pennsylvania, it was a shock. They talk loudly and use the f-bomb for all five parts of speech. Mind you, I was raised with two sisters and my mom. We were quiet and polite.

In my first introduction to his daughter, I had to hold back tears. We were riding in a car and I was admiring the scenery. I asked what river we were crossing, and she said, “Do I look like your f**@ing tour guide?” Note to self: don’t ask questions. Since then, she and I have become wonderful friends, and I love her dearly. But that was my introduction.

On that same trip, I learned you don’t shop for food in one place. You buy bread from the family-owned bakery—specific rolls made in a specific place. When you buy cheese from the meat market, you ask for the cheese in the back, not from the display case. It matters.

I love that these things matter to them. It makes me love them more. But I come from a different line of tradition. My mom was a teacher and didn’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen. It was Kraft macaroni and cheese, Stouffer’s Spinach Soufflé, and Campbell’s SpaghettiOs. That’s what I grew up on.

These days, thanks to my husband, I have developed a more refined palate. I consider myself a connoisseur of his three-day spaghetti sauce and meatballs. I even know where to buy the right mozzarella—and how to pronounce it—M U T Z A D E L according to the Italian Spelling Bee 😂. For a good laugh, check it out.

So that brings me to this year’s Thanksgiving. I said, “Let’s keep it simple,” knowing full well it’s an impossible ask. When he asked what I was contributing—besides clean-up—I said I would do a charcuterie board, while thumbing through the Hy-Vee flyer. I think he said something like, “Hmm.”

Yesterday, with urgency, he said we needed to go to the store or everything would be sold out. I knew he was right, but I was resistant. I don’t like going to the store, and being pressured to buy irritates me to no end. After a couple of hours, I agreed. I tossed the flyer and decided to just go see what I could find instead of hunting for anything specific.

Here’s what I found: Goldfish crackers with Mickey Mouse (my grandkids will love them), mini saltines, cinnamon-coated almonds, a round of brie, cranberry-coated goat cheese, pineapple chunks, and a few other fun delicacies. Easy. And I’ll be free to play with my grandkids and jump in wherever I’m needed.

After all, Thanksgiving is not about the food. Okay, it is about the food. But even more so, it’s about the gathering—the familiar voices, the laughs, the stories, the silent gazes, the pauses—the life we share.

Gather (listen on Bandcamp)
by Trisha Leone Sandora

Let’s gather together
So we can remember
The things we have forgotten

The life we share
What makes us care
The things we have in common

Let’s gather together
So we can hear
A familiar voice again

Tell stories and songs
About times long gone
And we can all remember when

Let’s gather, let’s gather
Let’s gather together again
Let’s gather, let’s gather

Let’s gather together
So we can laugh
And revive our sense of humor

We’ll sit together
Talk about the weather
And our big plans for the future

Let’s gather together
So we can share
A meal around the table

Watch the sun set low
Til the darkness grows
And the stars come out to join us

Let’s gather, let’s gather
Let’s gather together again
Let’s gather, let’s gather

Let’s gather together
So we can warm
Our hands around the fire

Share silent gazes
to faraway places
Where together we’ll fly higher

Let’s gather again
So we can remember
We’re all in this together

That we belong
And we’re so much stronger
When we hold on to each other

Let’s gather, let’s gather
Let’s gather together again
Let’s gather, let’s gather  (listen to the song below)