Here we are, post-Thanksgiving (in the U.S., at least), and I’m feeling even more grateful than yesterday.
I had a wonderful meal with fun, interesting people, and it did not include any of the following: decades-old family arguments, Jello “salad,” or that one relative with a drinking problem who ends up snoring in the recliner in front of the game.
(Not that this happens with my family! Truly! Though I have had to experience more than one gelatin-related side dish in my day. Just sayin’.)
At the end of last night’s festivities there was even an impromptu singalong at the piano with my talented host. You know all those Christmas carols we’ve been singing forever? Turns out I don’t actually know the lyrics beyond the first line, which means I then have to resort to the ever-popular “something something something” faking-it vocalizing. Sigh.
Today I’m thinking about family and friends and the history we all share, which got me thinking about the tiny town in South Dakota where I was born. I realized I still have all kinds of photos from visits that I’ve never shared, and today seemed like a good day to remedy that.
I love old stuff, and here are a couple good examples:
Talk about history! I’m guessing my mother’s father drove these cars, or maybe her brother drove the white Pontiac, I’m not sure. And to just park them out in the yard, leaving them to stand sentinel forever after. What have they seen in all this time? (More than one Jello salad, I can tell you that.)
What about you? Did the holiday bring up memories of Thanksgivings past? If it did, I hope they were good ones, but if not, I hope you had a lovely day yesterday and were able to create a new, happy memory. I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
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