Tradition Rules on Thanksgiving

I think I became a cook by default. Having four big boys to rear and feed, I had to. It was a bit hard at first, but I knew the basics thanks to my mother. She was a great teacher about kitchen necessities such as cleanliness, nutrition, portion sizes and making sure the plate looked pretty, but she was not one of those old fashioned Southern mamas who loved to be in the kitchen. It worked for her since she didn't have many mouths to feed, but that was not my lot. The first cookbook I owned was given to me probably more as a curiosity rather than a sensible usable reference. It's recipes seemed to be from the previous century in states further south than the Carolinas. I soon learned it wouldn't do. As I started buying semi-cooking stuff like Hamburger Helper and Rice A Roni, and by reading the list of ingredients on the back of the boxes, I slowly learned to cook. I was memorizing the New Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook when my first baby was born, and I continued to read with my free hand as he was nursing. Eventually, through much trial and about forty pounds of error that never left my body, I got the hang of it all. Now after all these years I believe that cooking is over-rated, and that simple natural foods are really the best. But on Thanksgiving, it is back to tradition. For my family that means turkey and dressing, sweet potatoes with browned and crusty marshmallows, mashed potatoes and gravy, veggies of some sort (whole green beans amandine tomorrow), and probably my favorite, rich and cheesy squash casserole. The girls will bring salads, and Trip will bring his delicious pies. I must get out my camera for the meal this year.