Our Non-traditional, Traditional Thanksgiving…

During this mask-wearing, social distancing, virtual-everything year—plagued by not only an insidious virus, but also isolation, fear, loneliness and worry—comes the one holiday known for tradition, gathering and food: Thanksgiving. Instead of joining family around the table, we decided to travel—safely—west to Alabama and New Orleans. Read on to find out how our non-traditional turkey day ended on a more, much-desired traditional note.

For the past eight, very long months, we have been doing our best to avoid social gatherings, wear our masks and do ‘all the right things’ to avoid COVID19: nothing about this year has been traditional. But, at some point, you just have to get away from this new normal. Even if you are following the same rules, just in a different location, there is still some aspect of normalcy to it. For our Thanksgiving break this year, we decided to take a trip. A place that had been on my “quaint small towns to explore” list was Fairhope, Alabama. From there, we decided to take a laid-back tour of New Orleans—hoping to redeem our food poisoning-plagued visit of 2016.

Fairhope was exactly what we were looking for: an adorably small town on the water. Emma’s B&B sat atop a small cliff, the sounds of the waves crashing ashore lulled me to sleep. It was chilly enough in the morning to don a sweater as we sipped coffee on the wrap-around second-story balcony—it was perfect. To top it off, we were the only guests there.  When we walked to the downtown area, we ate outside as usual, avoided the crowds, and just finally felt able to relax. As an added bonus, my boys treated me to a night at Emma’s by myself and they continued their stay at a resort down the road. What a rejuvenating 20 hours that was! I joined them for lunch the following day and we stayed one more night together at The Grand Resort. The sprawling grounds were perfect for getting outside and enjoying activities while still maintaining social distancing. Our waterside room near the southern tip of the property was prime real estate for watching one of Fairhope’s famous sunsets composed of stratified layers of yellow, orange, magenta and smoky purple.   

Our next stop was an intentionally subdued trip to the Big Easy. We stayed at my favorite hotel in the Garden District: The Ponchatrain Hotel. Since it was recently our 19-year anniversary, we were upgraded to the largest suite: a five-room layout that clearly served as an apartment at some point in the hotel’s ninety-year history. Writers, artists and dignitaries of all sorts were known to stay and live here: all of the walls are covered with original artwork and Tennessee Williams was said to stay here while writing A Streetcar Named Desire. I pick up on such an unusual, interesting vibe here: a presence of sorts, but not in an eerie, ghostly way. We have stayed in many aged hotels and I live in a bungalow that’s almost a century old, but there is something about this place that feels inspirational, the history palpable. Our suite had a piano…how many musicians—maybe even famous ones—had tickled those ivories? I digress, but suffice it to say that just staying in this hotel is a treat for me. Rather than the typical touristy draws—save for Café Du Monde—we explored the small neighborhoods that make this city so unique and even took a trip out to nature parks on the bayou. We found ways to get away and stay out of the hustle and bustle of this happening town. No ghost tour for me this time due to rain—and many of the cemeteries were closed—but we were able to catch a glimpse of the many elaborately raised tombstones as we drove by.

Heading home on Thanksgiving Day took longer than we anticipated, so we stopped off for the night in Tallahassee: Cracker Barrel provided our turkey dinner. We have used Cracker Barrel many times in the past for my in-laws’ Thanksgiving gathering place, but this year was a disappointment. In addition to running out of the sweet potato casserole, the over-sauced meats paired with the bone-dry stuffing were not exactly the way I wanted to end our day. As much as we convinced ourselves that we didn’t need the tried-and-true aspects of this holiday, there was something gnawing at me to make it right. So in the spirit of non-traditionalism, I cooked a traditional Thanksgiving meal on Sunday complete with my grandmother’s dressing, sweet potato casserole, ham—because there was no turkey to be found after visiting three grocery stores, green beans, homemade pumpkin pie and cranberry sparklers to drink—using homemade hibiscus (Florida cranberry) syrup.

Embracing our Thanksgiving on a day other than the fourth Thursday in November turned out to be—as Martha would say—a good thing. It served to remind us that being thankful is not just about a particular day with a particular group of people at a particular place. It is about appreciating what we have wherever—and whenever—that may be. It is about taking care of ourselves while keeping others safe during this most unusual of years. But mostly, it is about cherishing those things that excite us, evoke memories, and allow us to incorporate our traditions, no matter how untraditional they may be.