Between You and Me: A partisan divide at our Thanksgiving dinner

By Leah S. Dunaief

This one just passed was my favorite weekend of the year: Thanksgiving. It started last Wednesday night, as all good weekends should. We, the Dunaief Clan, have managed to extend it into three, even four days. We deserve no less. Like many American families, our immediate members are stretched across the entire continent, from the California coast to Pennsylvania, and from below the Mason-Dixon Line and the Florida Peninsula to the Gulf of Mexico. They need that much time just to get to Grandma’s house and back.

What’s waiting for them when they arrive? Food! All kinds of favorite foods. And love. Lots of love that bridges three generations with mighty hugs. Why, it even takes a good part of that long weekend before all the members of the family finish hugging each other, at which point we sit down to eat. We get back up some hours later, only to regroup for the next meal. We know we are among the fortunate in that regard and give thanks.

Food means so many different things. There are the traditional historic dishes that symbolize the meal reputedly eaten by the Pilgrims. But we have added more to the basics. And each person has a favorite that tickles them when they look at the offerings on the laden table and know it was prepared especially for them. Food is love, and special foods carry that message.

It still amazes me to be surrounded by the many members of my tribe. Some 60 years ago, before I was married, there was just I. Then, three months later, there were the two of us, my husband and me. And then there were children and children-in law, and their children and now, their new daughter-in-law and my first granddaughter-in-law. Together we populate the dining room and fill the house with chatter and laughter.

One of the high points of the weekend follows dinner, when we are still sitting around the table, digesting sufficiently until we can have dessert, and we tell each other what we are most thankful for that occurred in the past year. In that way, I get to catch up on some of the events in my loved ones’ lives and they on mine.

Speaking of dessert, the pumpkin pies were an issue again this year. For almost all the Thanksgivings we have celebrated here, 55 to be exact, we have enjoyed the classic finale from The Good Steer. Their pies pleased all our taste buds, from my offspring to my parents, who would join us from NYC during those early years. Alas, the restaurant on Middle Country Road in Lake Grove is no more; the owners having closed the business. 

So, faced with this significant void, I have done some research and have come up with replacements over the last couple of years. We did a scientific taste test between the offerings I procured this year. I’ve had a number of friends offer suggestions, and I thank them kindly because they understand how important it is to find an alternative source. After all, no two differently made pumpkin pies taste the same. 

The result here hung in the balance until the celebrations ended. My reputation as the Best Thanksgiving Grandma, I am relieved to tell you, is secure. We found a satisfactory replacement. In fact, there was a partisan divide between the two choices, so we will have one of each next year. 

This year, we had a first to celebrate. My oldest grandson had asked the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with to marry him, and she accepted. The wedding was this past spring, and we welcome her enthusiastically into the tribe. I give thanks for the blessing of seeing our family continue to grow.

I hope all of you, Dear Readers, had a Happy Thanksgiving with the foods you enjoy and the people you love, whether they be relatives or close friends or perhaps those you recently met and with whom you have chosen to share this celebratory meal.

On this day, we give thanks for the special people in our lives.