Letâ??s give it up for ingenious grandmothers SANDRA SNYDER WALL TO WALL

Happens every year, this time of year, Thanksgiving. Call it the great table debate. I have it with none other than myself.

Why did I buy a house without a dining room
? Why did I choose a kitchen that, despite its substantial-enough size and oft-pointed-out fun factor, can't seem to fit a proper, i.e., large table
? Will I ever actually be able to offer to host Thanksgiving?

Answer: Yes, just not quite yet. Working on the plan, I reassure myself. (Things are heating up this year but not exactly there yet.) And if they never quite gel, I'm convinced, all of my loved ones would surely not mind a good old-fashioned Charlie Brown Thanksgiving at my place.

Best in the Charles Schulz on-screen series ever, I say. Might possibly even edge out A Charlie Brown Christmas, with that darling teensy tree and touching biblical reading courtesy of Linus.

And I know at least a few youngsters in our clan who surely would eat up (no pun intended) an outdoor Thanksgiving around a big folding table full of popcorn and ice-cream sundaes and – gotta love it – buttered toast.

None of the chairs would match, of course. Mr. Schulz and company were surely an early inspiration for the still-trendy eclectic look, which in this case means a table is every bit as proper if surrounded by lawn chairs, folding chairs and even rocking chairs. And the leaves tumbling to the ground and perhaps right on to the turkey (or toast)? Atmosphere.

In other words, you do what you have to do because, in the end, it only matters that you're together, right?

The point hit home the other day when involved in a discussion with a friend about how I might finally tweak this kitchen to fit if not the table of my dreams then a reasonable facsimile.

But you'll go to your mom's, right? That was his first question. The answer was yes, happily. And this year, even better, we'll all re-experience the classic-style Thanksgiving that a combination of circumstances has edged out in recent years. (I am beyond excited.)

So, the problem? None, I answered. Except I'd just like to know I could handle the big dinner if I wanted to. You know, when Mom has had enough.

Then came my friend's story, which I love so much I just have to share, with permission.

Once upon a time when he was a boy, Thanksgiving was always at Grandma's house. Trouble was Grandma's place was maybe the tiniest place ever. Four rooms: two up, two down, all miniature. And the crowd was anything but … Parents and children and cousins … you name it, they all came.

Guess where they put the kids table?

On the steps!

Yep, no table at all.

Each young'n got one step, and there they all sat, lined up sideways to enjoy a dinner on the slant.

My first thought? Oh goodness, I hope the steps weren't carpeted, or poor Grandma!

My second? Brilliance. Utter brilliance. This is the ultimate in improvisation and making the best of what you have, and it's a safe bet most of us had grandmothers who excelled at that.

Reminds me of another discussion, this time about the movie Rudy and how the middle class used to live, quite happily: in tightly packed neighborhoods and narrow rooms with lots of twin beds. (You know, when children still played outside.)

What happened? Houses got bigger, fancier, arguably crazier. But it's said the tide is turning. Perhaps partly because of the economy, but you have to give credit where credit is also due:

Nostalgia.

Count on it to triumph when we finally realize we have what we need.

If my grand table dreams never come to fruition? Hey, I do have 15 steps.

Reach Sandra Snyder, the editor of At Home, at 831-7383 or [email protected].