At my age one hears a great deal about passing the baton on to the next generation. I do not disagree with that. There is a time to step off of the world platform of job, etc and let the next generation take over. However, I never knew the baton I was passing was a turkey.
This last Thanksgiving we had a delicious and festive holiday with our daughter for which I did nothing. Well, I did bring a pie … but it was given to me by our realtor as they do every year, so I do not think that counts. I filled up my plate with a delicious repast, ate it while the conversation swirled around me, and retired to the living room as the kitchen was cleaned and a portion of turkey was prepared for me to take home, for what is Thanksgiving without a turkey sandwich the next day.
As I sat by a lovely fire, I thought about all the Thanksgivings of the past in which I had risen early while the family slept to get the bird in the oven, mashed potatoes, made sure the dishes each person loved were prepared, and set a festive table. Since my husband was a Marine, we always included at our table those that would have been alone and enjoyed doing so. The most Marines I ever entertained at one seating was in Beirut, where the precious turkeys were imported for the day, and I was allowed two as the powers that be understood who I was feeding. There was very little left of those turkeys but bones when we were through with our third helpings.
Quite frankly, now I would be overwhelmed if I had to put on a holiday like the one described above. The turkey baton has been passed, and I cannot say I mind sitting in the living room while the next generation does a better job than I ever did. I can just stand in the middle of the track and watch as that turkey speeds its way towrds the finish line with a fine flourish.