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Along with millions of turkeys, the concept of a simple family Thanksgiving is dying or dead.

Not to be morose at the onset of the holiday season, but I am struck this year -- more than ever before -- on the impact of technology on what used to be a simple family holiday. We are stuffing ourselves with information and chatter.

Pinterest boards are a veritable cornucopia of recipes, cutesy notecards, quotes of thankfullness, and Thanksgiving-related infographics. Very festive, but potentially distracting as I feel compelled to re-pin and like.

Black Friday sales and deals are being blasted-out via e-mail along with insider tips and maps, contributing to retail frenzy. Shoppers will be checking in, hashtagging, and posting their purchases on Instagram.

I needed to find a recipe for cranberry sauce. What to do? I no longer pull The Joy of Cooking or my well-worn Betty Crocker cookbook off my shelf. I Googled "cranberry sauce" and was deluged with 500 variations, along with rankings, comments, and the ability to download my favorites into my Cloud-based recipe file. I suppose, on some level, reading the opinions of the strangers who rated the recipes may prevent a mealtime disaster, but at the end of the day, I care more about what my friends and family think than the rating of a random member of the "cooking community."

My favorite technology this holiday week? It's quite simple. It's not my iPhone or my iPad or any of the myriad apps on them. It's my GPS -- a rather old model at that -- whose soothing British voice will connect me to real people in the real world, as I travel to the "feast."

And, as shocking as it may seem to my Facebook friends, Twitter followers, and blog subscribers, I plan to sit down at the Thanksgiving table 2012, totally unplugged.

Chatting Over the Picket Fence

Women throughout the ages have always been particularly good at disseminating information (both helpful and gossip-y) in their neighborhoods – across the white picket fence or hedges that separated our homes, at the beauty parlor, or over a cup of coffee. Back when most women were full-time housewives, they shared tips on how to get their laundry whiter and which butcher had the leanest lamp chops. Women met-up in the beauty parlor and chatted about their questions and problems of the day and offered advice to those in need. Some whined and moaned continuously, spreading trash talk about neighbors and even strangers.

In the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, a group of close to 1,500 mothers (and others) in my community used a Facebook-based group to share information about storm clean-up schedules, ideas for keeping kids and grandkids entertained, and where to find gas, flashlights, sleeping bags and other essentials. Some women even put up posts inviting other families into their homes for warmth and power and others shared information about which non-profits needed assistance. The “over the fence” conversation has simply been moved to the Internet.

We did what we’ve been doing for years; shared information, insights, and encouragement to other women who needed advice. I stood eagerly at the fence, picking up whatever tidbits I could, chuckling at some of the quips, taking solace in the words of encouragement.

The whiners and moaners took their negative energy to the online picket fence too, blasting the storm crews for not cleaning-up quickly enough, the government for not giving our community high priority treatment, the other women without kids who didn’t have enough empathy for the plight of families who had been displaced. Whenever a community forms (in the physical or virtual world), some women will naturally use it as an outlet for their frustrations and stress, dragging the rest of the group into a depressing or negative conversation.

However, the women with helpful suggestions far outweighed the Debbie Downers. They joked, encouraged, helped others in need, and shared. Our laundry may not be whiter and brighter next week, but we will have all weathered the storm because we chatted and shared. The iPad and keyboard have replaced our aprons and casserole recipes. But we still know how to traverse that picket fence!