Going Cold Turkey

It snowed here on the coast of Maine this morning–just right for a Courier & Ives Thanksgiving in New England. We worry about family who will be driving north from Boston on slick roads, but they are a winter-savvy bunch and the horse knows the way…

I love wearing a sweater, scarf, and wool hat here inside the Starbucks in Saco, thinking about August days when, come to think of it, I was always too cold because they kept the air conditioning so high. The forecast is for sunny and high of 55 in Denver. The Saco Valley Credit Union across Route 1 risks this non-secular greeting on its digital sign: “Happy Thanksgiving! Bless You!!”

I need to keep my visit to the sanctuary of Starbucks short, in order to drive back to the cottage and see what needs to be done. There are rumors that this will be the last time my parents host Thanksgiving here in Maine, because of various logistical problems, so next year the annual turkey trauma may shift to the big house in Cambridge. I don’t mind, as long as our family observance of Thanksgiving remains in New England, not far from where this tradition, like so much else of lasting value in America, was invented.

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