The farm and the family both look a bit different in 2023, but this photo from Thanksgiving 2015 remains one of my all-time favorites. I wish that I had a recording of the stories told around the table that day.

There are many things that I love about Thanksgiving, but chief among them would have to be the stories. Many of them are grand stories of the sacrifices made over the years by family members, tales of being shot down over the Adriatic Sea or landing on the beaches of Normandy while serving in WWII.

Stories like these, shared around the table with family and friends, are, for me, a dish more scrumptious than any turkey or dressing. They are humbling, they make you truly thankful for who you are, and for the blessings that you have been given.

Then there are the funny stories, tall tales that were you not there to have witnessed them yourself, you might doubt whether they actually occurred.

For example, a yarn spun about a snake that crawled underneath the house one warm Mississippi Thanksgiving only to be dispatched via one shot from a .410 shotgun fired in the crawl space underneath said house, the reverberations of the boom shaking the kitchen floor beneath everyone’s feet as they loaded their plates with the Thanksgiving meal. No injuries occurred, other than those to the serpent.

At some point during the celebration each year, the stories remind us of those that are no longer around the table and the laughter may turn, for a time, to tears. Yet, even the sadness is to be treasured, as it means that those we love will not be forgotten. Author Ray Bradberry reminds of this in his treasure of a book “Dandelion Wine” when he writes that “no person ever died that had a family.”

The storytelling tradition is one of the things that I love most about having grown up in the South, and one of the things I love most about holidays and family gatherings. Sitting around my parents’ table, my Mamaw’s table, my in-laws’ table, and the table here at the farm while hearing and retelling the tales of family has shaped me into who I am (both as a person and as a storyteller).

In his memoir, “A Childhood: The Biography of a Place,” Harry Crews writes that “nothing is allowed to die in a society of storytelling people. It is all–the good and the bad–carted up and brought along from one generation to the next. And everything that is brought along is colored and shaped by those who bring it.”

The storytelling tradition is one, I believe, that we need to work hard to keep alive in these days of disjointed distraction in which we currently live. It is also one of the things I am most thankful for entering into this season of Thanksgiving.

G and I spent time this week gathering photos of Tate for a slideshow of Tate and Jake that will be a part of the celebration of their upcoming wedding in December. The stroll down memory lane was a wonderful visualization of the memories of special moments with our daughter, and it brought to mind the stories that go along with each of those snapshots of time.

I’ve written before and I truly believe that time is our most precious commodity. What would you give for one more Thanksgiving meal, one more day of stories around the table, one more fireside chat with family or friends that are no longer here? Time is priceless.

It has been a busy week of preparation, and G and I have the sore backs and stiff muscles to prove it. Getting ready for the holidays takes time and it’s easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle, lost in the crowds and our “to-do” lists, and lose sight of what really matters—spending time with family and friends and, above all, being thankful for that time.

Set aside time this week to think about a favorite family story that you want to share over the holidays, perhaps one that will bring laughter (and maybe tears), and then revel in its telling over a plate of turkey and dressing or while sitting around the fire pit underneath the stars.

Make it a point this year to use your phone to take pictures and then put it away. The pictures will serve as excellent “memory markers” for the future and perhaps they may, many years down the road, bring to mind the story of what happened during the Thanksgiving celebration of 2023.

Until next time, here’s to the stories that make us who we are, to the stories worthy of retelling, and the stories yet to be written. Here’s to the gathering of family and friends and the folklore those gatherings create, and here’s to a happy Thanksgiving 2023.

Email outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.