Having lived through 69 Thanksgiving Days, I have different memories from each. The earliest ones were held at Grandma Burky's. The kids were fed early, before the adults, and I don't even think we got the turkey. Then the dinner moved to Bucky's house, first being held downstairs. There was a fire going in the fireplace, all the tables lined up to make one long one and the food was brought down from the kitchen and up the street from Grandma Burky's. But Grandma still had one thing in mind, feed them and get them out. I remember once Grandma put a piece of pumpkin pie right on Uncle Jack's full plate, in fact maybe right on top of his turkey. Then we moved back upstairs into the dining room. The kids ate in the kitchen at the kids' table and that's when the Thanksgiving Day beatings started. The O'Leary's loved to put on a show for their cousins, John leading a contest to see who find the longest hair in their stuffing and other contests involving the dinner. Once, when they were suppose to do the dishes, John or Tom or both opened the kitchen window and jumped out with Uncle Jack following them down the street.

Oh, there are funny memories - the time Uncle Eddie put his hand in the sofa, looking for an earring that Aunt Muriel had lost and instead found a piece of lemon merinque pie that Pooh Bear, their dog, had hidden for a later treat. And the time that the grinder that Bucky used to mix the sausage into the stuffing broke and the stuffing was served full of nuts and bolts.

A sad memory of the Thanksgiving when Kennedy was shot, all eyes on the television watching the grief of the country for a president that was so full of life and vibrant.

But this Thanksgiving might be talked about for years, and I doubt if Liz or Zander will ever forget it. It's the Thanksgiving that Zander fell into the septic tank. The kids were playing kick ball outside, Jer and Liz were chatting on the deck when Zander screamed and they saw that he had been swallowed up with just his head peeking out of the earth. Liz pulled him out, got him into the house crying and whipped off the Buzz Lightyear outfit he had worn for Thanksgiving Day. The hole, we discovered, was the Bird's Nest septic tank, the top had collapsed and thus the sink hole that poor Zander discovered.

Later I thought how bad this could have been - Zander ending up in the septic and what if we had people upstairs in the B&B? "Hey honey, come and see some poor kid is up to his chin in the shitter." Well, as Bucky used to say, "All's well that ends well" (maybe Shakespeare said it too) and all I have to do is find somebody to fix that damn hole before we lose someone else in it. Happy Black Friday.

Mark Twain said, "I've seen many troubles in my time, only half of which ever came true". I thought the quote was 90% never came true, which seems more like the odds should be in my family of worriers. But the family photo that was taken last Saturday came off with no problems at all and my worries were for naught.

The idea came up at the kitchen table, somebody mentioned the gift certificate for a family photo that Maria, Laura, Paul and Sabra had chipped in for my Christmas gift, so many years ago, we weren't sure if it was 8 or 9 or 10. So, then the conversation continued, we should use the certificate, which I had kept in plain sight on my bedroom bureau . I fetched it and we decided to use it, but I said, we are missing Maria now, and it was suggested to take the photo at her gravesite, so the stone would be in it. Then, someone said "Let's take ma's couch and we can have a couch picture with the group." Now, I had my concerns, but I figured the photographer would either say that the certificate was too old, or most certainly she wasn't going to the graveyard with a couch. Laura offered to call her with the proposal. And to my surprise, Laura said she loved the idea.

We called everybody, there are more than 20 of us, and got everyone to pick a good time for all. I called Kevin and said, "We're taking a family picture, can you be there?" Sure he said. I said it's going to be at the graveyard, and he said ok. Then I said, "there's one more thing - we need your truck to bring my couch there." Again, no "what the hell are you thinking?" Just an ok.

Then I worried for a week, what if we got arrested, thrown out of a graveyard. Sabra tried to calm me, Ma there's a list of things you can't bring - sleds, glass vases, etc. - nothing about a couch.

So Saturday came, we got there and dread of all dread, there were people throughout the cemetery, surveyors, men measuring to put in stones and my dentist and another woman cleaning up branches. But the photographer was there, the couch was positioned and we had the pictures taken. And not one of the others even came near us to ask, "Hey, guys what are you doing?" So, all my worry was for nothing. Don't worry, be happy. We can't wait to see the pictures.

This week's NY Times had an article on "Shadow Work", work we do that is unpaid. When the term was coined 30 years ago, it referred mostly to housework, but today it is all around us. Pumping your own gas, bagging your own groceries are just two examples. The article mentioned that once stores had employees that assisted shoppers in finding what they were looking for. Today that no longer exists for two reasons, stores saving money and more important the longer it takes you to find what you are looking for, the more likely you are to just pick up a few more items.

This made me think of when I was a kid in Beacon we had a department store Schoonmaker's in which each department was manned by a clerk, who could not only help you find an article (such as a gift for your father in Men's Wear) but also had a cash drawer where you could pay for it. My friend Elaine's mother worked for years in the men's department, each Christmas helping me find the right thing for the right amount for Daddy. Even Grant's across the street had an employee in each department to help you. At Christmas I worked in the stocking and sock area, helping men pick out stockings for their wives. Today most people are young enough that they don't remember that method of shopping or so old they forgot.

And what I miss the most is the Shoe Store. Today you go to the shoe section, look for the style you want on display, check the item number and then search the shelves for that shoe, in your size. Not easy to find, and then you sit on a bench, if you're lucky enough to find one, try on the shoe, and if not satisfied, start all over. What a contrast from the past. First you would look at the selections available, much more than today. Then you would show it to an employee. He would seat you, remove your shoe, measure your foot, and then go find the shoe in the back of the store. Then he would kneel before you, helping you tuck your foot into the shoe - honestly, you felt like Cinderella with the prince...Anyway, if you wanted another color, off he would run and get it for you. Anything you asked for, it was his job to make you happy. Then he would take the boxed shoes to the counter, ring if up and send you off happily ever after.

Shadow work - I still don't pump my own gas -oh, I tried it about 25 years ago, but each pump is different to operate, I got gas on my hands, and then I had to wait in line to pay. I go to the one gas station in Red Hook that still pumps your gas, sometimes they even wash your windows, front AND back. It's hard when I'm away and every gas station is self service, then I have to beg a relative, usually a young kid, to go with me and pump the gas. They do my shadow work for me. Shadow work, sounds sneaky, and I have to think maybe it is.