Fall... I love this time of year. The leaves decide they've had enough so they dislodge and fall to the ground (this is not a scientific explanation). My favorite visual is to watch two or three leaves swirling in front of my car like they are taking one last dance before winter comes.
You can tell the season by the smell of chimney smoke wafting through the air, or the sports fans dressed in their football team's colors. And, in the South, we know it's fall when we get dressed for winter in the morning and summer in the afternoon.
Also, fall is the time that families start divvying up who will bring what to Thanksgiving. Let's see... there'll be Aunt Libby's squash casserole and Aunt Mary's cornbread dressing and so on.
Precooked turkeys are bought and put on heirloom platters. Indications of store bought wrappings are thrown away so the relatives won't learn that Grandma never really knew how to cook a turkey.
The only thing I don't like about fall is the centuries-old designated Thanksgiving food; it's beige. Turkey --- beige; mashed potatoes --- beige; gravy --- dark beige; squash casserole --- mostly beige; dressing --- beige with green specks in it; rolls --- ivory beige. Oh, sure some will throw in a green bean or two and a dab of cranberry sauce but face it, it's mostly a beige holiday.
Growing up, I ate five turkey shaped sugar cookies with yellow icing. My cousin Patti made the cookies for the little kids but what she really did was help me keep from fasting on Thanksgiving.
And as they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. My son ate Honeycomb cereal for about four Thanksgivings that I can remember.
I think the beige food complex started in my elementary years when every Monday the cafeteria served slimy navy beans, sauerkraut, cornbread and a ring of raw onion. Let's just say, I didn't look forward to the beginning of the week.
But even if I am food deprived on this fall holiday, I love the mix of conversation that hovers around the table where we all sit.
Some years we have immediate family. Other times there are cousins once and twice removed where we spend the entire time trying to learn the difference between a second cousin and a cousin that has been removed.
Then there are friends, and friends of friends, friends who can't go home and a friend who just broke up with someone who used to be a friend but now feels friendless.
"Honey, where's the leaf for the table?" we will overhear our host say. "It's either under the guest bed or behind all the stuff in the hall closet" they'll reply. The leaf or several leaves will be added so those who have no place to go can come and be part of the family. Then we'll hear, "it's no bother" because it really isn't a bother but a privilege.
Grace is said, overindulgence begins and family stories are handed down. My favorite was when Lance's 80-something-year-old grandmother was asking her 60-year-old daughter about one of her friends from childhood. As they were talking, Grandma realized that I didn't know who they were gossiping about. She leaned over to me and whispered, "Oh, that's her friend Peggy ... you know she HAD to get married... bless her heart."
Now that cracks me up. The woman was in her late 60s and they were still talking about her unfortunate incident.
But no matter who comes to your table or whose table you are at this year, look around. There will be faces that you may not see in the years to come; there'll be some people you wish would not show up anymore; there'll be a friend of a friend or a guest from another country. Southerners are the best at inviting all who will come to share their spread, their manners, their stories and their lives.
This brings me to another table where there are many mixes of people. The host has invited us to dine with him. His invitation read, "I've come to prepare a place for you."
That table however, will have no secrets told or sadness of generations lost. That table may have people different than we thought. The guests might be dressed up or have on torn blue jeans. They may have a nose ring or a necktie. We could be sitting next to someone who is fastidious or someone who is hygienically challenged.
The guest list will not be ours, but His. He is the inviter and we are the attendee. He has no problem with adding leaves to his table. There is room for many. There is room for you. So pull up a chair and enjoy the feast.
And I have a feeling that the Bread of Life is not beige food, but a colorful pallet.
Jenny Lou Jones teaches Silver Sneakers and "Pilates With a Purpose" at the YMCA in North Augusta. She also leads the CHICKS women's group at TrueNorth Church. Reach her at jlou7@comcast.net.
