Advice from a small town girl

I’m declaring our first community Thanksgiving a success. Nearly thirty people (of the 36 who had RSVP’d – more on that later) attended, and there was probably enough food for twice that many.

I still haven’t figured out how all the leftover pie disappeared. I was positive that I put some in my car, but upon unpacking everything at home – no pie.

Just as well.

At any rate, everyone who attended was amazed at how beautiful the freshly-refinished dining hall floor in Old Town Hall was. We were so impressed by its beauty, in fact, that no one dared spill.

Now I’m going to deal with some touchy subjects. I don’t want anyone to take offense here, but I guess if you do, you do.

First, I think Thanksgiving should be a community holiday, not just a family one. Even though my family has always celebrated it that way, I’ve strayed from that line of thinking.

The very best Thanksgivings I can remember were spent in the company of my much larger family – the community I lived in at the time. And lest anyone misunderstand what I’m talking about, these were not meetings of the disenfranchised, the poor, or the lonely (although they were welcome.)

Even though the gathering we like to think of as the “first Thanksgiving” wasn’t ever repeated, I believe that it should function as our model. A diverse group of guests (Pilgrims and Natives) come together to eat, talk and play games. What could be better than that? Turkey coma and football on TV?

I guess what it all comes down to is choice. You can choose your friends, but not your family, as the old adage goes.

Mind you, I love my family (I know at least one of them reads this column), but there are lots of opportunities throughout the year to spend with them. Birthdays, anniversaries, weddings or reunions – numerous opportunites to rerun our history together.

But Thanksgiving? I believe that it should transcend the ordinary.

It should also not be too much of a burden on any one person. When a community comes together, the burden is shared. Many hands make light work, you know.

Second, let’s talk about what RSVP means.

The abbreviation comes from the French phrase “répondez s’il vous plaît”, which means “please respond” in simple English. For a formal invitation to an event, it is a request for you to tell the hosts “Yes, I’ll be attending,” or “I’m sorry, I am unable to attend.”

When the invitation is informal, such as an ad in the paper or a flyer posted on a window, there is no need to reply that you are NOT coming.

However, if you say you WILL come, and just don’t show up, it’s considered rude. By me.

I confess I am awful at responding to invitations – just slightly less awful than at telling people I can’t come. So let me be clear, I’m not perfect.

You probably already knew that.

I will never be able to pass myself off as Miss Manners, but I have two basic rules:

If I forget to respond, I don’t go.

And if I say I’ll be there, I’ll be there. If for some unforeseen reason I can’t be there, I CALL and tell the hosts. This usually involves embarrassing myself.

There were several people who just didn’t show up Thursday.

We missed them.

The whole second turkey missed them.

Some had an extremely good excuse, and were kind enough to pass it on to us. We are sorry for their heartache or their illness.

But there were still a number of people who just didn’t come. No call, no apology, no nothing.

We had a great time without you.

I want to thank everyone who came to dinner, because you brought dinner. And it was fabulous!

I was going to list all those who deserve thanks for making the dinner such a special occasion, from those who provided turkey and ham and all sorts of delicious side dishes and desserts as well as games for after dinner, but you all know who you are. I hope dinner was reward enough.

Special thanks to Marlene Homberg, who provided turkey even though she did not attend, and to Karen Brooks, who cleaned the bathrooms and cobwebby corners before the guests arrived.

Let’s do it again next year!