Thanksgiving in New Hampshire started with a flicker – the dimming of the lights as we were making cranberry sauce Wednesday night. Over the next few days, we made do just like our pilgrim ancestors (or someone’s pilgrim ancestors, considering all my relatives came to the US in the last 100 or so years). I got back to my roots, shoveling the driveway, using the snow as our natural refrigerator, and playing board games by candlelight.
Having the power lines down for the biggest meal of the year wasn’t without its challenges, but things turned out great. We cooked the turkey at Grandma BooBoo’s house in the next town over. We made stuffing in the crockpot in the living room, since the generator didn’t power the kitchen. We cooked the rest of the food on the gas stove, and ate by candlelight. We invited another family over to share with us so they wouldn’t be alone in the dark, and huddled even closer around the table.
Even after the power came back, this dark start to the holiday season reminded me of the lesson that every Who should learn – it really doesn’t matter how warm your food is or if you can watch the Thanksgiving Day parade. At the end of the day, all that matters is being able to enjoy time with people you love.
Oh, and pie. Pie matters too.