Thanksgiving was a day of reflection for me. We always had a big crowd at our house when I was growing up. Both sides of the family would come and I would set the big dining room table -- with all the leaves -- for 26 to 30 people.
I have a memory of my two grandfathers having an animated conversation in Yiddish with lots of hand gestures, but no raised voices. These two men, from opposite ends of Russia emigrated to the US in the early part of the 20th century to make their homes in New York City. They were just kids themselves at the time. Somehow, they made lives for themselves and raised families. My parents met by serendipity on a blind date.
So, what were these two men discussing that Thanksgiving so long ago? Life in the "old country"? The state of the world? The wonderful meal that was about to be served? Or was it just a conversation about the price of milk?
I'll never know, but I will continue to think about them both with fond memories.