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This year, as for 36 of the last 37 years, I will be hosting the family Thanksgiving dinner. (Last year I got out of it by going to Ireland.)
Over the years the faces around the table have changed. Parents and in-laws died, friends and lovers came and went, children have grown up and moved away. In fact, only my sister Jean and I have been constants.
Even the dining room table has been the same, an old oak pedestal that I've refinished twice. Because it reminded me of my ex-husband, I sold it before moving this summer.
I'd planned to sneak out of hosting the event again by inviting myself to visit my daughter Liz in San Diego, but last weekend changed that. My nephew Eric got married in Charleston, where I learned they were planning to come home to Wisconsin for Thanksgiving, bringing along his bride's father and his wife. My new condo to show off and new guests would bring new excitement.
Memories of Thanksgiving past
Over the 36 years, the holiday has been memorable.
* One year somebody sneaked a nickel bag into the sage dressing. Discussions were a bit more animated, and the out-of-town contingent slept all the way home.