As Thanksgiving approaches, my mind is filled with memories from childhood. Every Thanksgiving Thursday, we alternated years between grandparents. Then the Friday afterward, we went to the other grandparent’s home. My dad’s side was overrun with cousins to play with, and we always had some sort of outside game going. I never stayed inside; there was exploring to do.
My mom’s side was different. The men watched tv, sat on the porch or repaired something. The women cooked and jabbered in the kitchen. We were the only grandchildren, so my brother and I found things to play with or we visited my great-grandmother’s room in the back of the house and ate all her candy.