My mom died on Thanksgiving two years ago. My dad nine years ago died on my birthday. I have mixed feelings about holidays. They make me a bit sad, but they also bring back memories of my folks. Fortunately, we are a family that likes each other and likes getting together, so my holiday memories are mostly pleasant. Earlier today I was getting annoyed a other people's snide comments about dysfunctional family holidays and decided to go look for a nice picture of my folks to post. I found the one I wanted, but I found much more.
This is Mom and Dad leaving their wedding reception. They were a very good looking couple, very good looking parents, and very good looking old folks.
This is Thanksgiving 1965 at my uncle's house. During the sixties, we lived close enough to Mom's brother and his family that we spent every Thanksgiving together, alternating between their house and ours. Here, at the kids' table, that's me on the far left (appropriately) followed by Sister. One Cousin One got to sit at the grown-ups' table (neener, neener neener). I notice my little sister has not eaten her roll. Number One Sister will probably steal it, because Mom made great bread, and we really like those rolls.
Here are my big sisters and Cousin Number Two filling their plates under Mom's careful supervision.
This is the grown-ups' table. That's Favorite Aunt on the left, followed by Grandma, putting a little sugar in her coffee, and Cousin Number One. I'm not sure who the man at the end of the table is, possibly a relative of Favorite Aunt's. Mom is on the right with Dad in the shadows behind her and another unidentified person beyond Dad. Favorite Uncle is behind the camera. While Mom smiles for the camera, Dad is busy chowing down.
It's only fair to warn my sisters and cousins that I have lots more pictures of us during the sixties. Oh, the hair. Oh, the glasses. Oh, the humanity.