When I was a kid, Thanksgiving was a big holiday in my family. Everyone–and I mean everyone– was there. Over 100 of us all piled into my great grandfather’s garage. Three huge turkeys from dad, Auntie Jane, and Auntie Karen; hundreds of cookies from Mary and me; and endless tickles from Uncle Jimmy. I love holidays. With a big family like mine, they are the one time we all get together. And boy do we make a big deal of them. I loved holidays. With a once big family like mine, they were the one time we all got together. And boy did we make a big deal of them. Now we don’t talk about them. Don’t talk about the empty seats that will never be filled. Don’t talk about the abundance of leftovers because we refuse to accept the dwindling number of those in attendance. Don’t talk about the silence that was once filled with laughter. We just let them come, going through the motions of when and where, who and what. And we’re happy. And we’re blessed. An...
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