I dislike the artificiality of the gatherings for most holidays especially in my family where manufacturing the false sense of togetherness that rivals the false closure of the Treaty of Versailles.  As our clan slowly shed the traditional vestiges of Thanksgiving the loss of “What I’m Thankful For” has lifted my spirits the most as the non-specific engendered supplication always smacked of sanctimony in my book.  This year, my mother, father, and I went to the Buck Hotel and had their Thanksgiving special.  The service was mediocre at best and I nearly rendered the hostess catatonic when I stated so but a sliver of light jabbed against the jejune and made the event worthwhile.

While waiting for our food to arrive,the large table behind us began to do their “What I’m Thankful For” ritual when drug to a halt with a young girl who droned on about loving school, colored paper.  After three or four such prosaic mentionings some octogenarian at the table piped up with “sometime today, dear”.

I go through bursts of hating to eat out.  It’s a poor value in that I’m essentially paying for a table and for someone to periodically interrupt the conversation.  Joe and I changed tack and for $12.00 we enjoyed about two pounds of chicken strips and a pound of tater tots washed down with some swell apple cider.

Driving home with my arm out the car window holding the champagne-like bottle and drinking it at red lights and modifying my route to drive by as many police stations as possible was my attempt at evening entertainment.  There just aren’t enough cops out at 10 PM on Tuesdays.