Let’s create a story together, whether fictional or based on experiences, about Thanksgiving. I’ll get it started:
Normal Rockwellish was not what I would call my family’s Thanksgiving traditions, but they certainly were entertaining. Being Mom’s favorite holiday, we would have immediate family, which in my case included my extremely weird cousin, Sam.
He would arrive by train, then we’d fight about who drew the short straw and had to pick him up from the station and bring him to the homestead.
He, without fail, each and every year would eat all the appetizers, which consisted of awesome cold shrimp with a home-made cocktail sauce, then came the champagne and lots of story-telling.
One year, Sam didn’t show, but he had advised us that he’d be on his way. Well, whatever could have happened to him; surely he wouldn’t miss his chance to gorge himself for free and then get a ride home from the least drunk relative.
So, where could he be? . . . (Please continue on with the story.)
