The memories I have about Thanksgiving were nothing like this. We always stayed home. We used a beautiful lace tablecloth that my grandmother had crocheted, along with the best china and silver. We used our best manners, remembering to keep our elbows off the table.
My mother prepared the entire meal, and when I was old enough, I was allowed into the kitchen to observe and fetch items for her. One year, someone was giving away pies, and my father had something to do with it. The only detail I remember about it was that someone delivered a mince pie to the house and it was for me. That was my first taste, and to this day, I always love mince pie for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I think that Jason and Stephen are the only kids who like mince pie.
