Thanksgiving was my Grandmother’s holiday. Every year, for about half of my life, we’d congregate around the kitchen table in Williamsport, PA.
It’s one of the places I learned the loving craziness of family. It’s one of the places I can directly trace the roots of my sense of humor came from. It’s one of the places I learned how to pick thoughtful fights with teachers.*
I didn’t know this until recently, but one of my grandparent’s songs from, “back when we were courting,” was “Button Up Your Overcoat.”
It’s a sweet song and a sweeter memory. This is the first Thanksgiving without Grandma around. “Take good care of yourself,” and know who you belong to. Friends, family, and otherwise.
*seriously – it pays to have relatives with volumes of literary criticism on nearby shelves and strong opinions, loosely held. No authority was ever sacred or safe in that house. It was fantastic.