Different

Yesterday was Thanksgiving Day, and for the first time since 1966 Ernie and I woke up to an empty house. Lucy had come home, but had gone straight to Elizabeth’s house for the night, Andrew, Marcie and family were in New Jersey and Al and Gody didn’t want to risk bringing the boys to Detroit so close to the new baby’s due date. For the first time in forty years I could watch a televised parade or enjoy a football game—and I did neither. I leisurely finished up some pies to take over to Elizabeth’s, where we celebrated a wonderful Thanksgiving day.

Last year I documented some memorable past Thanksgivings and I spent way too long today poring over old photos, mostly too murky to scan but clear enough to bring back memories and elicit a sigh or two.

Things change. This Thanksgiving will prove no more or no less memorable than those of the last forty years: just different.