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In the words of Jamelle Bouie: “I like turkey, but brisket is an excellent alternative for a Thanksgiving centerpiece.” At first, the utterance may seem a lighthearted remark about food and festivity. Yet, when viewed with the eyes of wisdom, it reveals a lesson deeper than feasting. It speaks of tradition and innovation, of reverence for the old ways yet openness to the new. It reminds us that while customs bind us, alternatives enrich us, and that life’s abundance lies not in rigid sameness, but in the balance between honoring the past and embracing fresh possibility.

The ancients cherished ritual meals, for they knew that food is not only sustenance for the body, but also a binding thread of community. The turkey, long held as the emblem of Thanksgiving, carries with it memory, continuity, and the weight of shared history. It is the familiar anchor, the symbol of gratitude passed down from one table to the next. Yet the mention of brisket, hearty and rich, reminds us that traditions must not become prisons. A celebration that can welcome new flavors is a celebration that lives, breathes, and grows with its people.

Consider the example of the Jewish people in their long exile. Wherever they wandered—whether Babylon, Spain, or Eastern Europe—they adapted their feasts to the land around them. They did not abandon their holy days, but they embraced new foods: the fish of the rivers, the grains of the fields, the meats of the local herds. In this way, the essence of tradition endured while the form shifted. What mattered was not sameness, but the spirit of remembrance and gratitude. So too does Bouie’s reflection on brisket teach us: the heart of Thanksgiving is not chained to one dish, but thrives in the spirit of shared joy and communal feasting.

This truth speaks to life beyond the table. Many cling to customs or ways of thinking because they believe change dishonors the past. But the wise see that the past is honored not by clinging to its form, but by carrying its essence into the present. Just as a Thanksgiving centerpiece need not be only a turkey, so too can our lives welcome new paths, fresh opportunities, and different expressions of joy, while still rooted in gratitude and tradition.

Bouie’s words also remind us that choice itself is a gift. To say, “I like turkey, but brisket is an excellent alternative,” is to declare freedom from the tyranny of expectation. It is to say that joy does not depend upon a single form, but can be found in variety. The rigid mind demands only one way; the generous heart sees beauty in many. In feasts as in life, abundance flows from openness.

Therefore, the lesson is clear: honor tradition, but do not fear alternatives. In your family, keep the customs that bind hearts together, but allow room for new flavors, new practices, and new joys. In your personal journey, do not believe that success or fulfillment has only one form. There is not one path to gratitude, one recipe for love, or one way to celebrate life. Let your table, and your heart, be wide enough to welcome the unexpected.

Practical action is simple: as you gather with your loved ones, ask not only, “What has always been?” but also, “What might bring new joy?” Try a new dish, a new tradition, or a new act of generosity. In so doing, you honor both the ancestors who handed you the feast and the children who will one day carry it forward. Let turkey remind you of continuity, let brisket remind you of adaptability, and let the Thanksgiving centerpiece—whatever it may be—remind you always of gratitude.

Thus, Bouie’s lighthearted words conceal a deep truth: life’s feasts are richest when tradition and innovation share the same table. The true centerpiece is not the dish itself, but the spirit of thankfulness that binds us together across generations.