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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Peter was able to see some of the ant-like Macy's Thanksgiving parade by leaning suicidally over the 50th floor balcony. I go into fight-or-flight panic if I get anywhere near the railing. The parade passes in front of the building with floats passing 40 minutes before they’re on TV. Finally, hours later, at lunchtime, Michael (Lisa’s dad), announced, in a low, deep and melodic voice, like God might have used to conjure the universe, “come and get it!” Which started a pell-mell stampede, luckily, no one was hurt. Would I be unoriginal if I said, “turkey and dressing are the ultimate comfort food?” The aromas, flavors and textures, like the bubbles in our sparkling, apple-cider faux-champagne, invoke minted, holiday memories and emotions. I have so much to be thankful for. I’m surrounded by friends, I’m doing well (if not perfectly) in school, I’m in a nice relationship - one that makes me confident and America’s in a moment of peace. Right as we were seated, 13-year-old Leeza’s phone, hidden in her back pants pocket, chirped and her pale, freckled face turned crimson. “Oh,” Michael said softly, “that’s going to be a problem.” Leeza held up her phone so everyone could see it shutting down, “Sorry!” she said meekly. “Thank you.” Her dad responded. If things aren’t perfect now - when are they? Our holidays may be stripped back and simplified, or we may be separated from those we love, but I hope you’re all well and happy this Thanksgiving and that you don’t run out of gravy. Because when the gravy’s gone (that may take days) - I’m callin’ it - this thing is over. Happy Thanksgiving! . . Webster: Pell-mell: “mingled and hurried disorder.”*
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