My family had a long wait before the meal, whatever house it was at, and there were drinks (sodas or liquor or iced tea) served by the man of the household, and dishes of peanuts and bowls of potato chips and sometimes good olives on the living room table or "the bar". Men also cooked, including in later years, the then grown sons. All three families were gender equal cooking teams.
We always had roast turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, turkey gravy, green beans, usually pearl onions, and cranberries, some good bakery bread, and plenty of butter. About an hour after dinner, we usually had three pies to choose from - pumpkin, apple, and some other chosen pie, plus vanilla ice cream if desired. The host family cooked one turkey, and one of the cousins families driving from afar would bring another cooked turkey, and other people were assigned to pie bringing or bread bringing.
When people came to my house they occasionally would come early so that we could all walk on the beach (which was about 15 blocks away) while the turkey was cooking. They would let us know that, of course. If no one was coming early, my husband and I walked the beach ourselves. So, every third Thanksgiving, walking the beach was part of the tradition.
If the cousins (and their mother) didn't come early for the beach walk, there was usually a neighborhood walk happening after the meal - not as big a deal as the beach was, but a way to get out and stretch legs.
On tables - in my house we worked up a set of tables in a row, thus moving the tables into the living room, and some living room chairs (etc.) into the dining room for the day. That was all done before anyone showed up.
My own mother, who was not alive for most of these memorable dinners, had mincemeat pie as a necessary choice. It took me a couple of years to figure out that my cousins and their families hated mincemeat pie. She happened to be born in Boston and lived there until she was around twenty, when that family moved to California, circa 1920. I don't think I've heard of mincemeat pie since then - I think it was more of an eastern U.S. thing.
I also forgot to add that the woman I call my hundred year old aunt, but was actually my cousins' mother, always brought her special wine for the meal. I can't remember the name right now, but I'll come back and post that when it pops up in my brain. It was in a kind of ceramic bottle and was rather sweet. Most of the younger generation of us adults despised it but were polite about it, sipping from small glasses.. After her death (she then really was over a hundred), the wine at the meal improved a great deal, but we all would rather have had her with us with her favorite as a table donation.
Another tradition was Aunt Nan (to me) telling stories. She lived quite a life and was, to the end, an excellent story teller.