My most memorable thanksgiving meal was one I didn't eat

Many years ago when our daughter Ariella was perhaps just two and Gilad was a newborn, our extended family was scheduled to converge on the family compound (my parent's house in Westport) for a traditional  New England Thanksgiving dinner. 

For many years my mom & dad had been hosting the turkey-day feast... and out of gracious concern for our dietary restrictions (Zahava and I are the only ones in the extended family who keep kosher) they had always prepared the entire meal according to the strictest interpretation of the laws.  They were able to do this because, in addition to their own very nice (but treif) kitchenware, they also kept two complete sets of kosher dishes, pots & pans and utensils on hand for those occasions when we stopped by.

Yes, my parent's are truly special people.

So, for several thanksgivings the entire family (grandparents, parents kids, grandkids and various invited friends) had gathered at my parent's house and enjoyed a delicious - and completely kosher - thanksgiving dinner.

However this one thanksgiving about which I'm writing was to be a bit out of the ordinary.

I had unwittingly accepted a date to play a gig with my band on Thanksgiving out on Long Island somewhere, and Zahava and baby Gilad were both in bed with some sort of bug.  It was arranged that Ariella would go to be with the rest of the family at my parent's house, but because she was such a picky eater we told everyone to assume she would not be eating.

However, we found out after-wards that my parents had gone ahead and prepared a completely kosher thanksgiving... from the first appetizers to the last slice of pecan pie!

We were absolutely astounded. 

Not one person at that Thanksgiving table kept kosher in their daily lives... yet, on the off chance (an extremely long shot, I assure you) that this finicky little two-year-old girl might ask to taste a sliver of turkey or a bite of pie, they had all agreed that the entire repast would be kosher... served on kosher dishes... and eaten with kosher utensils.

I could bring countless examples of how my siblings and parents have gone to similar lengths to accommodate our religious lifestyle out of a combined sense of duty and love, but this thanksgiving memory is the one that stands out most clearly in my mind as a reason to count my blessings. 

I am so thankful that I have a family so ready and willing to recognize the distinction between making personal choices for ones-self, and creating common ground where everyone can feel included and welcome.

The memory of that long-ago thanksgiving - a meal Zahava and I didn't even attend - is like a well-banked bed of embers that continuously warms my soul. 

Happy Thanksgiving!