Regurgitating Stories…Special Thanksgiving Blog

So…okay, I realize this is kind of a gross title considering this is a special Thanksgiving blog, but I’m going to proceed anyway. Because, you know, that’s what I do sometimes.


As I advance in age, I realize I am becoming my father. Gasp! They say that people begin to follow in the footsteps of their parents as they age…taking on their personalities and traits. Even though my mother had OCD, for which I have adopted a fair amount of those traits, it is my father I see in myself more and more as the years go by.


I don’t recall what I have and have not shared about Thanksgiving traditions growing up and later on in life as I emerged and altered those traditions in my own adult life. Therein lies the reason for the title of this blog and my insistence that I am becoming my father.


My father loves to re-tell stories. At every holiday, or when the family manages to get together for weddings, funerals, etc., he tells the same stories. We’ve heard them a million times (hyperbole, I know). Now, I could look back over my 185 blogs and see if I’ve covered this before, but I won’t. I’m simply going to tell you, again maybe, what my traditions have been.


Growing up in an Italian family, we always had turkey and lasagna at Thanksgiving. We didn’t ever go around the table and say what we were thankful for, that’s a new tradition I’ve adopted. Mom cooked. We ate until we could eat no more. I preferred lasagna. It was my favorite food. I was not about to waste valuable stomach space on Turkey, so I wouldn’t generally put any turkey on my plate.


In my twenties and thirties, whenever I couldn’t join my family for Thanksgiving I hosted my own and started a new tradition. I would invite all the orphans as I called them. The orphans were other professionals and friends who couldn’t join their families or loved ones either.


Finally, in my fifties, I gave up on cooking altogether. Why? Because it’s a big, fat, pain in the rear for two hours of eating pleasure. And, I got sick and darn tired of eating turkey for days. The lasagna I made was usually gone in a day or two and then I was left with turkey. A new tradition emerged. We make reservations at a fine eating establishment and my nephews who live in the Pacific NW join us with their partners (one wife, one girlfriend). There’s no mess to clean up and the food is always amazing. Sure, there isn’t any lasagna and I do miss that, but at least I don’t have to eat turkey for nearly a week. This new tradition comes with the stating what we are thankful for. I combine the traditions of my youth with this new tradition in my story, The Thanksgiving Baby Caper. Here’s a little audio clip for you!

The Thanksgiving Baby Caper Reading

Thanksgiving Baby Caper

If any of this is a regurgitated story, sorry. I hope everyone has a safe and healthy Thanksgiving! Interested in buying any of my books…you know the drill. If there is an uptick in sales, I can spout that today as something I’m thankful for!


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