pat loughery

Today in the States we celebrate Thanksgiving. In our home we had my wife and daughter, my mother, two of my wife’s sister’s families and another friend. Lots of energy, lots of laughter. Lots of food. For 15 of us, we had 2 cheesecakes, 1 apple pie, 1 banana cream pie, 1 pumpkin pie, and a batch each of homemade vanilla and homemade blueberry ice cream.

It’s a good thing that the beer fridge out in the garage is relatively empty of beer, as now it’s relatively full of leftovers.

It’s good spending time with family. Even if my newly installed-by-me garbage disposal isn’t working or draining.

I was reminded today of the last Thanksgiving I had with my grandfather, who passed away this past January. Somehow, although he was 90 when he died and did time in the Boy Scouts and Marine Corps, grandpa never peeled a potato until that year. He giggled like a schoolgirl through his time at the sink (that year, my faucet exploded and leaked water everywhere, so we had to wash dishes in the laundry room tub. You’d think my plumbing hates Thanksgiving or something).

That year unlike this year, we remembered to go around the table and talk about what we were thankful for. Grandpa had a very emotionally difficult time, telling us that he was just thankful to be here with us still. We certainly were too. I wish we could say that again this year.