The turkey turned brown and succulent as Dad sharpened the carving knife. Mom gave the mashed potatoes a final whip and dished up the gravy. My two younger brothers carried the fruit salad and hot rolls to the table. I stood on the front porch scanning the road, looking for family.

No one came.

I penned an announcement in my best 7-year-old penmanship and taped it to the front door.

“Attention! Anyone who needs a Thanksgiving dinner is welcome here.”

Mom called me in to eat. I knew extended family wouldn’t be coming. The previous summer Dad took a job out West, hitched a trailer to the car, and started the move. Mom and kids followed on the train. No more holiday meals with extended family except for a brief visit in the summer.

That Thanksgiving I realized being with family ranked higher than turkey or banana cream pie. I couldn’t remember what we’d eaten that previous holiday — only what a fun time I’d had with a cousin.

A few short decades later, and the house rocked with children — and often guests. My turn to baste the turkey, Mom and Dad spent time with grandchildren, and youth helped bake pies and rolls. A variety of cultures and ethnic groups expanded our culinary experiences. Thanksgiving guests — old friends, new friends, family — came with a variety of dietary preferences.

“How do I carve a vegetarian tofu turkey?” asked a senior family member after sharpening the carving knife.

Others shared their impressions.

“Quinoa salad with Asian vinaigrette doesn’t taste like my favorite fruit salad dressed in whipped cream.”

“Artisan bread — does that mean it was kneaded in an architecturally pleasing environment?”

Thanksgiving ingredients expanded: millet, triticale, spelt, Kamut.

“This Chilean beet salad can’t compare to green bean bake.”

“Pumpkin pie with a dollop of whipped cream and apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream used to be my favorites until we invented Sour Cream, Blueberry Supreme, Cheesecake Pie. I’ll take a second piece.”

Various guests spoke for vegan, gluten-free, and low carbs. A hefty uncle requested the “pig-out” meal plan, which meant he wanted to try a little bit of everything.

Flax seed came into the conversation. Some report it’s a culinary seed with risks for some people who eat it. Others note that the blue-flowered plant also can be picked and processed to make linen fabric.

Each is a different species with the linen flax having longer stalks for harvesting and weaving.

The blue-flowered flax seed for my linen tablecloth grew on Great-grandpa’s farm in the Old Country. No one drinks grape juice near this treasured piece of family history.

The food discussions continued. Turkey or tofu? Stuffing or celery stalks?

Mashed potatoes. A chef on TV demonstrated how to turn so much cream and butter into cooked potatoes they turned smooth as a jar of baby food.

“I prefer,” said Grandpa, “my mashed potatoes to have an occasional un-mashed chunk. Makes them rustic and more authentic.”

“Do you suppose,” asked an elderly aunt, “that in the future, we won’t have food like this for Thanksgiving?”

Perhaps it will be molecules of protein served from test tubes and we will be looking back with nostalgia for turkey stuffed with oranges, onions and fresh sage, and vegetables laced with stir-fried tofu.

After dinner, sharing what we’re thankful for, and clean-up, some chose bicycles and helmets to explore a woodland path. Others set up board games. Some snored their way into naps. Some watched ballgames. Family and friends time — the best.