THE PERFECT MEAL

It's getting closer. The anticipation is building. Soon, the smell of turkey roasting in the oven, along with dressing and pies, will fill millions of homes all over the United States.

As far back as I can remember, I woke up with these same distinctive aromas wafting past my nose, as well as the sound of Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade coming from the family room TV. No one was necessarily watching it, but it was on all the same. Sleeping late meant no school, and if we were lucky, it would snow hard enough over the weekend to justify the school board calling for a snow day, giving us a few extra days off.

One of my favorite things to do was look through the Sears Christmas Wish Book and circle everything on my list. This would not be complete without holiday music in the background. Dad had a reel-to reel tape deck in which he had recorded Christmas songs from the radio. These same tapes were played year after year and each time, the familiar renditions would add another layer of memories. If we begged Dad long enough, he might even get the decorations out of the garage. When the ornaments were unpacked, I would gaze at my favorites, as if I were looking at them for the very first time.

Mom always planned to eat around 2:00 Pm, but Tom Turkey didn't make his golden debut until he was ready. The table was set by my sisters and I, everything in its place. Often times, I was given the job of making place cards . . . home made, of course. As the family grew larger and larger, this task took longer and longer. On occasion, we had a special guest join us for dinner . . . someone who needed a home for the holiday.

Then came the long-awaited two words, "Dinner's ready!" Just when we thought it was time to eat, my parents would gather us in a circle and while holding hands, we would take a minute to go around, one at a time, telling what we were thankful for. Although my stomach was empty, my heart was full of the many blessings God gave us as a family. I was overflowing with gratitude.

But that wasn't all that overflowed. When the prayer was over, the abundance of blessings on the table overflowed my plate. Here is what my plate looked like: a few slices of Mom's perfect turkey next to her AMAZING giblet stuffing (a double portion at least,) then corn, green bean casserole, home made mashed potato's and gravy, along with two cranberry sauces and possibly a roll. Since my son married, the North finally met the South and we now have the addition of Sweet Potato Casserole, courtesy of my daughter-in-law, Angela.

All's well that ends well and I am proud to say that I am the official pie maker in this family. I always bake at least four pies: Dutch Apple, Chocolate Pecan, Pumpkin and French Silk Chocolate Pie. (Don't forget the whipped Cream.)

After the last dish is washed, the women folk take their traditional walk in the neighborhood to ease the pain of overeating or maybe just get out of the kitchen. Yet, there is one last important ingredient left to mention.

When I was a child, we went as a family to view the Christmas window display at a popular department store in the town where I grew up. To carry on this tradition, we now go to Kuhn Flowers on Thanksgiving night, to see their widows. Although someone in my family always feels the need to express disapproval to this long standing ritual, they graciously appease me by honoring my request.

As the years go by, family dynamics have shifted and changed. This year, a nucleus of us will be trying Thanksgiving around the campfire. I am looking forward to creative variations of the traditions I hold so dear, adding another layer of memories. But I have learned something about this perfect meal . . . it's not where you are or what you put on your plate, its who you are with and what you have in your heart that counts.

What's your idea of the perfect meal?