For my first dozen or so years our Thanksgivings were very Norman Rockwell. Over the river and through the woods to the maternal grandparent’s farmhouse on the Glade in a small cluster of OTHER farmhouses referred to as the nonesuch thorp of Rupert. As the eldest grandchild I got the seat of honor next to my grandfather and look down the lengthy table at the four generations there assembled.

In my mid-teens dad built his dream house on HIS ancestral farmland. A big, beautiful brick Colonial just outside of town. And then we lost two generations. Great grandma “Corn” and Aunt Edna “egg.” Go ahead. Ask. I’d be GLAD to regale you with those stories. The ONLY gathering I ever missed came in this phase. I was honored to go to NYC with a hundred friends to perform in the Macy’s Parade. We recorded the pre-parade show on top of the now-destroyed WTC. Perhaps another post for another time. Then my generation started to traipse off to college. That meant homecomings and all those entailed. One third of the family moved to Wisconsin. And when the grandparents passed there were fights over the estate. Recriminations.

The next stage saw my sister get married and my parents move into a smaller ranch in town. Thanksgiving was the only holiday she spent with the other side, to take the Christmas card portrait, dontcha know. So we were down to three, with an occasional girlfriend or roommate. A turkey breast, mashed potatoes and broccoli casserole. Yes mom could MAKE the mid-western traditional green bean casserole but we kinda preferred the broccoli. My marriage didn’t change things. Wife and I never spent Thanksgiving together. She had HER family traditions (on the east coast) and I had mine.

The next transition brought “us” back together. Sister divorced and returned to the family table with her daughters and they occasionally brought friends. We doubled to six quite quickly. Then sister remarried. A loving caring man “with three kids of his own.” So we went back to double digits. My divorce and son growing up brought more additions. We had a few years of over a dozen!

Then dad died.

After a brief family meeting it was agreed that I’d return to the head of the table. Where I’d been, at my grandfather side, fifty years earlier. And now the younger generation is wandering off. Military duty. The other side of the family. We’ll be back under double digits this year and may never see it again. More changes are coming. But in THIS year of all years the fact that we ARE getting together is what is meaningful.

And I’m thankful for that.

a day or so after I wrote that James Lileks wrote the same damned thing, only better. Great minds and all.