Another Thanksgiving is upon us. This is my absolutely most favorite holiday.

In the last few years, it seems that the Christmas season is beginning around Halloween. Sirius Radio has had holiday music channels for weeks. The Hallmark Channel is in full maudlin Christmas fashion. Each of those repetitious movies has the plot of the books my 2-year-old granddaughter pretends to read. The rush is on, and it seems that I am out of the race.

Ever since I set up shop as an adult, I have hosted Thanksgiving dinner. As the cook, I start preparations a few days before. For years, I would brine the turkey (a step I no longer do), and, for the 24 hours before cooking, the bird air dries in the refrigerator. By allowing the skin to lose some of the moisture, it crisps better.

I always make the usual American-style trimmings…gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, squashes, vegetables… but it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without at least lasagna or manicotti, meatballs, sausages, and other Italian-American dishes. For a while, I would make homemade mozzarella and a few times even burrata.

Over the years, the way I would prepare this dish or that would change. For instance, I learned to make stuffing from my grandmother when I was 14…not in her home kitchen but in a restaurant kitchen where we would serve over 300. We would save the leftover bread for weeks in big paper sacks, no longer allowed by health code regulations. She would soak the bread in chicken stock to soften. She would cook onions, celery, carrots, raisins, and seasoning in butter and sherry in large roasting pans on top of the stove. Mix it all together and bake in the pan. When I graduated to other professional kitchens, I made that same stuffing for years.

Once married to my first wife, who is Puerto Rican, she insisted on adding sausage to the recipe. It became my new standard. My current wife insisted that the sausage had to go and that the bread be replaced by stuffing cubes. Besides the American and Italian food contingents, my Puerto Rican wife would make pernil, arroz con gandules, and other cocina criolla dishes.

For several years between marriages, I hosted Thanksgiving as a bachelor for friends and family. The standard fare remained but other dishes came and went. One year, I had pierogis for Polish friends. Another year, I made a roast goose as a changeup, in addition to the turkey.

When we still had a place up north, our apartment would be where the kids, their spouses, and others would come. A friend of one of our daughters came a few times, accompanied by the most beautiful and interesting women. I definitely missed him when he moved to California.

The last few years, we were away from home on the holiday. Last year, we were with a couple that are long-time friends living in Texas. I cooked some and the host cooked some. It was an Italian, Tex-Mex typical Thanksgiving that was all American.

And maybe that is what we are losing when we relegate Thanksgiving to a pit stop on the way to Christmas. It should be a time when we celebrate what it means to be an American. Over the years I have adopted customs and foods of others in order for all to feel welcomed at the table. Because what we celebrate is the very essence of being an American. That is the true message. It is not about shopping or football. But it is about what we should hold dear. We sit together regardless of where we or our ancestors emigrated from and thank God for living in this country.