November 24, 2005

  • Scottsdale is beautiful any time of year, but I am especially enjoying it now, knowing that this may be the last Thanksgiving my family will celebrate in Scottsdale. Today is the end of an era for the Nelson family.

    From 1969 to 2005, Thanksgiving dinners with my folks have been both festive and profound. I can only remember two of them when we had less than 30 people for dinner, and sometimes the number was closer to 40. Just a few of us were family by blood or marriage; the rest were family by virtue of passion or vision. Some would say they were "family" by grace or mercy. Funny, that's how I always felt myself.

    Every year, just before dessert was served, my dad would stand and clatter on his glass and propose a toast to something from the past year for which he was most thankful. People of all ages colors and creeds learned to call out "Skol!" like good Norwegians when he finished... and then it was their turn. Sometimes one would wave the attention to the next person, but most people shared, most from the heart. And those hearts were moved. It was a unique once-a-year human communion, against the backdrop of carved turkey rather than broken bread; champagne and Martinelli's rather than wine; and the generous portions reflected the generous spirit of the moment.

    Now the burden falls to those of us who experienced it, to reproduce it. We can't recreate the amazing view and hacienda setting of 23036 Via Ventosa, or the classy cozy comfort of my parents' new back yard either for that matter. But can we recreate the welcoming, the inclusiveness, the grace and generosity? Can we create a moment of communion, when near-strangers can share their hearts with one another and discover they are friends at the end of the evening?

    We must try, at least. Let the sacred scheming begin.