Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on gratitude, family, and, of course, food.

As we approach the holiday, I couldn’t help but reflect on just how far we’ve come.

In the early 1600s, when the Pilgrims and native Americans gathered for what we now remember as the “First Thanksgiving,” refrigeration didn’t exist, nor did the electrical grid.

They didn’t have a refrigerator humming quietly in the kitchen. There was no electric oven, no cranberry sauce, no containers of whipped cream waiting in the fridge.

They hunted their food, smoked or dried it for preservation, and cooked it over open flames. If anything needed to be kept cool, it was stored in a cellar or packed in snow. Butter had to be made. Cheese, too. You gathered your own milk.

That’s a far cry from today’s world, where our biggest concern is whether we remembered to start thawing the turkey three days ahead of time.

Turkeys should be kept at a steady 37 degrees, the temperature recommended as ideal by the Department of Energy.

Our refrigerators run day and night, using around 360 to 400 kilowatt-hours of electricity each year, depending on the model. That translates to roughly $40 to $50 annually in energy costs, maybe a bit more during the holidays when it’s packed with leftovers and desserts.

Cooking the turkey is no small feat either. According to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, preparing the turkey and pumpkin pie can use up to 8 kilowatt hours of electricity, with a cooking time of four to four-and-a-half hours. That’s a big leap from having to cook everything over open flames, without the help of modern appliances.

Our regional electric grid’s 2019 report noted that the peak electricity demand forecast for Thanksgiving Day in 2020 was over 85,000 megawatts at 11 a.m. Just imagine how much higher that number might be today?

Energy costs, from cooking to heating our homes, are a concern for many, especially during the colder months. But it’s worth remembering how much harder daily life was before reliable energy.

Without electricity, preserving food meant salting it, smoking it, or burying it. Leftovers weren’t just rare, they were risky. Today, the power that runs our refrigerators and ovens adds convenience and safety that our ancestors could hardly have imagined.

The early settlers who carved out homes in the rugged mountains and valleys of our state had to work every day just to stay fed and warm. I think of them as I open the fridge and switch on the oven.

So, this Thanksgiving, as we gather, warm, around tables with full plates, let’s take a moment to be truly thankful, not just for the food, but for the invisible systems that make it all possible.

(Lane is chair of the West Virginia Public Service Commission)