034.November 28

Brooklyn, NY

Thanksgiving day, we woke early and got started with our cooking after I made some espresso. Eventually, Sam got eggs for omlettes, but by then the turkey was already cooking for an hour, the stuffing had been stuffed, etc.

We basted for 5.5 hrs, adding the potato's and yams late in the game, setting out the cranberries an hour before the arrival of guests had som chianti to ring in the evening.

Our guests arrived, all 5 of them, including Jason's new wife Marianna from Greece originally. We had a lovely meal, the turkey was perfect. Monty helped me carve it, then he just took over. After the meal I got out the crackers and shortbread, and mince pies were eaten with coffee, plus the birthday cake from Jason's recent party was still less than 1/3 eaten. I had wine and whisky coffee and tea. We looked at photos and finished.

Sam and I watched "Rushmore" after they left. They had done most of the dishes. After the movie I finished them off and we went to sleep.


I have traveled on Thanksgiving many times. One reason I moved to my hometown was to be able travel on holidays, and still see my family the rest of the year. I kind of regret that choice, because holidays are so much better with family, building those memories together, comparing the growth and maturity of younger members. Playing silly games together. I miss my mother on holidays most, as those are the days she shone most, and went to great lengths to make it special for everyone. When I did travel on those occasions, I felt on a mission to capture the holiday to bring it back home to share with my family. I took many of these pictures with that in mind. Though I wished I had been with family too, I thought about them so much more while traveling over holidays. In Prague, we ran into one of Rachel’s relatives that night at the Christmas Market. So it all seemed to balance and become about family again. Christmas is coming. Get out your pictures and share. That will be my goal this season. To remember the moments I have shared, the time lost, and the memories kept. Like the Thanksgiving snowstorm that trapped us at my grandmas house, playing murder by candlelight at dusk in the rose wallpapered bedroom, on the soft carpet of the empty room. I can’t think of a memory more vivid than that in my life. I try to keep a journal so that one memory can lead to others. One moment, when separated from the rest, put into words or a picture, perhaps, chosen, becomes an anchor than can help the imagination travel time.