In a recent interview with Candice Bergen, the star of "Boston Legal" told her interviewer that she and her family were looking forward to eating the delicious dinner that her chef "always" prepares for them, for Thanksgiving.

You remember Candice Bergen.  She won five Emmys for her role on "Murphy Brown," which ran from 1988 to 1998.  Ms. Bergen is equally famous for giving big bad Dan Quayle a run for his money, after he criticized her character on the show for "mocking the importance of fathers by bearing a child alone and calling it just another lifestyle choice." 

A good point, but one that the late night comediens hooted and hollered about for months, especially after Murphy Brown made the incident part of the show by arranging for a truckload of potatos to be dumped on Mr. Quayle's front lawn during a subsequent episode -- a veiled snipe at Mr. Quayle's one-time misspelling of "potato" (when he added an "e").  The show's writers then took things even further by exploring what "family" really means -- insisting, of course, that "real families" are not just between a man and a woman.

One might say that Ms. Bergen was ahead of the curve, politically speaking.

As I trotted back and forth to my neighbor's oven to check on my two pies and sweet potatos, stuffed my turkey, and worked on a creamed corn roux Thursday afternoon, however, I couldn't help but think about Ms. Bergen and all the celebrities eating Thankgiving dinner prepared by a chef -- chefs who, according to a recent article in People magazine, easily earn $100,000 or more per year.

Hmmmm...what a concept.  And what would that be like?  Wake up at 6 a.m. to feed the baby...no, that would be taken care of by my baby nurse.  Sleep 'til 8 a.m.?  No -- 9 a.m.  Gotta get my beauty rest.  Then maybe a bowl of cereal.  No, I think I'd have that served to me on the terrace, next to the swimming pool...and as long as I'm going there, I'd probably order an egg-white omelette with turkey sausage.  With a cup of Earl Grey.  While my kids played with the nanny, of course.

I'd dive into the pool for a few laps, followed by some work on my backhand.  I could even wave to the kids from the tennis court -- assuming they could see me through all the stuff piled in their rooms, of course.  Finally, my husband would appear (I hope) and we would all sit down together for Charles' fabulous, annual Thanksgiving dinner.  We'd then relax by the fire while Maria cleaned up.

Am I crazy to think that maybe that wouldn't be so great?  Or (the occasional restaurant meal notwithstanding), is making a meal en famille -- not just eating it -- a big part of the Thanksgiving spirit, too?

Look.  It's not like I'm addicted to cooking.  Sure, I've taken courses at Le Cordon Bleu, and I can definitely hold my own at a dinner party.  As a fulltime journalist/author and stay-at-home mama (I don't get much sleep), the thought of a personal chef sounds like heaven.  It's not like I'm in the kitchen making Paula Deen dinners for my family every night.  I reply on take-out food just as much as the next woman.  It's the American way.

Having my Thanksgiving dinner cooked by an employee, year after year, though...somehow, there's something just not quite right about that.  Not wrong, as in morally wrong (although one could certainly question the ethics of making an employee work holidays, away from family).  The whole scenario seems just a little out of touch with thankfulness in general.  Not that you can't be thankful for Charles' fabulous turkey and his gracious skill at serving that turkey, of course.

But isn't there something incredibly thankful about taking time out of our busy schedules to plan, shop for, prepare, cook and enjoy with those we love? 

My sweetheart is in the Middle East this year. (Love 'ya, baby.)  And I had plenty of invitations to join others for the day.  I chose to spend my Wednesday evening and all day Thursday, however, cutting and cooking for some of the people Mark works with -- single people who live in the dorms.  Two couples with no kids.  And, while I did all of the food preparation, my father-in-law (who, like most men, watched football all day) did the dishes, afterward.  (This is where men truly come in handy during the holidays, in my opinion.)  It was an act of service.  It was my way of saying thank you to my Lord and the people I love for blessing me so greatly this past year.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm no saint.  I could have dragged my butt over to the homeless shelter and volunteered for people who are really and truly suffering this year.  Then again, I got scared away from that idea a few years ago, by the guy who answered the phone at the homeless shelter.  When I asked him if we could come down and help out, he said, ever so nicely -- and very rightly -- that they had more than enough people to volunteer during Thanksgiving and Christmas, thank you very much.  When they really needed people (and food and clothes and funds) was the rest of the year. 

Ouch.  Talk about being good and soundly rebuked.  So, suffice to say that I wasn't at the homeless shelter this year.  I was at home, cooking for 14.

I don't know.  Maybe it's just the Southerner in me who thinks that thankfulness and a little bit of work -- even if it's just bringing a casserole or doing the dishes -- go hand-in-hand.  Not every year, of course, or even every Thanksgiving.  There's certainly a place for eating out -- as well as a time to receive and be waited on.  I used to be waited on by my Aunt Nancy, back in Charlotte, who slaved in the kitchen and made all of us Thanksgiving dinner every year, before the Department of Defense saw fit to move us cross country.

But sometimes, we need to serve.  And frequently enough that we don't lose the sense of what it means to be part of a country where people, by and large, do not have the luxury of servants waiting on them -- especially during the holidays, when everyone (I think), should be with family, if at all possible.  And that includes all those post-holiday sales we could all live without.

Then again, maybe I'm just a big ole hillbilly.

So, however you got your meal this year -- on a silver platter or an aluminum pan -- here's hoping you were with loved ones, and that you enjoyed every single bite, while finding reason to be well and truly thankful.

With Southern love,

In Christ,

Annabelle

www.AnnabelleRobertson.com