Thanksgiving

I finally got into the mood to recount the Thanksgiving trip, which was spent with the greater part of my mother's side of the family. Happily, I still largely remember it. The day before my flight, I was injured during the making of a comedy video. I was at the time concerned about possibly not being able to make the trip on time, but I was fortunately able to receive medical treatment the same day and make my flight in the morning. Two of the people in charge of the aforementioned video were kind enough to drive me to Los Angeles International Airport. This is not a very good airport, both functionally and aesthetically.

I got through security all right, but as always I forget about having an object the TSA considers a security risk on my person. Whereas in the past it has been a lighter or a too-large bottle of shampoo, I can see their point this time, as it was a Leatherman-like multitool with knife blades. I was disappointed to learn that it is no longer permitted to put such things in the mail from inside the airport. Goodbye, multitool- you served me very well for a long time.

For fun, I decided to buy newspapers from every airport I stopped in. First, I bought the LA Times and La Opinion in LA. Then I had a short layover at Chicago's Midway Airport, where I bought the Tribune and Sun-Times. I was saddened to see the Tribune as a tabloid rather than its traditional broadsheet format. I had been looking forward to seeing its blue banner at the top of the front page as I had before. Life is rife with such disappointments. Lastly, upon arriving at T.F. Green Airport in Warwick, Rhode Island (NOT Providence, one is assured by a very defensive advertisement placed in the airport concourse by the Warwick mayor's office), I bought a few: The Providence Journal, the New York Post, the Boston Herald and the Boston Globe.

Past experiences at LAX and Midway were fresh in my mind, but I had not been to Green airport since I was thirteen at least. On that occasion and others, we arrived late at night, well after the airport restaurants and stores closed. In my memory, it was so very small and sleepy- no larger than municipal airports from home unable to accommodate anything much larger that executive jets and Piper Cubs. I realized this time how false that memory was, but also could see that much growth had taken place in the intervening years. Evidently it was totally rebuilt just after my last visit. Perhaps it's no match for most of the airports I've been too in terms of size, but it's a lovely airport, and one I'd rather experience than LAX any day.

Shortly after my arrival, my parents (with Mom's dog Tia) got in from Phoenix. It was wonderful to see them for the first time since spring. We collected their baggage in short order, and made our way to the rental car agency desk, from which we went to catch their shuttle to the lot. It was raining when we got outside, making the filling out of paperwork a challenge. I briefly entertained the idea that rain would destroy the only evidence that my father had consented to the rental agreement, but it seems that it is not so simple. It was a nice, large vehicle, and the trip from Warwick to Putnam went well once we had our bearings.

First, we went to the hotel- very much what one would expect of one of the few such establishments if not the only one in a town of roughly 10,000. I would in fact be staying at the retirement home of my grandmother and aunt, where we were headed next. It was a very nice encounter. I had not seen my grandmother in a long while, but I believe I had seen my aunt more recently. The last act of the night was getting pizza delivered before all such businesses closed down. The folks shared the pizza, and I had myself a Philly cheese steak. It seemed like a safe thing to ask for when unable to see the menu. Food consumed, it was bedtime. Mom and Dad went back to the hotel, and I settled in to watch a bit of TV with my grandmother before bed.

The next day, it was time to begin making the rounds of the relatives. Our party consisted of myself, my parents, and my grandmother The first thing was to see Uncle Henry and Aurore. They are my mother's aunt and uncle, and so are my Great Aunt and Uncle. It was amazing to see them.

Uncle Henry, as did his brothers, served in the European theater during World War 2. I guess I'm not sure about the exploits of all the family veterans, but Henry was in the First Army and stormed Omaha Beach in Normandy on D-Day. Serving in France would seem natural for young men like them who grew up in a substantially French-American community and spoke the language from so early on. Even now it's evidently hard for Henry to talk about, but I and my family felt privileged to hear what happened to him and his brothers from his own lips. Being able to see Aurore also meant a lot. Also popping in were Michael and Jennifer. One might think that no one really says things like "youse guys", but relatives of mine such as them do so without affectation, and it's extremely endearing.

After that, we went to see Ovila and Rita up in Massachusetts. Ovila is something of a family celebrity. The stories of him finding money on the ground have endured for years. Perhaps more impressive is how kind time has been to them both. Ovila is now 96 years old, still sports a full head of hair, and only very recently gave up driving. They are spryness personified. We went and got some spaghetti from what I understood to be the only operating restaurant in the town where they have lived for at least sixty years. It was good stuff.

The next day was fairly busy. Dad and I hiked around the Quinebaug River and discussed Washington's crossing of the Delaware as well as the Battle of Trenton which followed. We then digressed into discussion of the more prominent Founding Fathers and their relationships with one another.

Following that, we met up with Michael and Jennifer, who took us to a steakhouse in Warwick. As we approached the building, Michael queried us as to whether we had any nut allergies. This was because there are huge barrels of peanuts throughout the restaurant for snacking, and peanut dust permeates every inch of the building. Luckily, we had no such allergies, because if so, stepping inside would mean instant death. The food was delicious. To begin with, we had peanuts and delicious piping hot bread. This was followed by our drinking and beginning courses. Dad and I each had a tall, cold Narragansett beer. That's Narragansett- the pride of Cranston, Rhode Island. Dad had some kind of fried fish, I had a New York strip steak (thought about getting something Texas-y, but decided that New York was a lot closer to where I was, despite the origins or pretensions of the chain), and the entrees had by others escape me. I know Mom had a hard time cobbling together a vegan entree from the offerings at a Texas-style steakhouse. It was all very good, though- a great meal and experience.

After that, we went to peruse the wares at a Christmas-themed retail outlet there which apparently operates year-round. Of course, we knew that my sister Annie was flying in, but we thought she would be landing much later that evening, allowing time to drive the thirty miles back to Putnam, relax, and them return to the airport to pick her up. As it happened, her impending arrival kept getting pushed forward, and it was necessary to turn right around once we had gotten back to the rental car. I actually stayed, greeting my sister once she got to Putnam. That was about all there was to Wednesday.

Thursday was devoted entirely to Thanksgiving matters. We watched football and ate at the retirement home's social center, and joining us were a number of other relatives, including Aunt Yvette, Colleen, and Tory. Looming large was the physically smallest of them all- Tory's daughter Sierra, who is a precocious bundle of energy. It was an excellent Thanksgiving, and the day concluded with my sister and I watching a little Band Of Brothers and some other show of her choice..

The big event on Friday was dinner at Henry and Aurore's home. There was more great food and drink, so if any of us finished the week heavier, it's no surprise. We conversed at length with them both as well as Mike and Jennifer, Matthew, Isaiah, and of course my grandmother Jeannette. She has always been Meme to me, so it's confusing when other relatives call someone else that and call Jeannette by a different French appellation of affection.

Saturday, there was another hike. I, my father, my sister and Mom's dog went out on a trail not too far away. It was a nice kind of hike to experience (as was the hike earlier in the week) after hiking in the desert most of my life. After that, Dad and I ate Chinese food (Except for Annie, we never tried the Mexican restaurant attached to the hotel. It was reputed to be the best Mexican food anywhere around, but we from Arizona did not have any regard for the opinions of New Englanders on such things) and watched our beloved Gators stomp the Seminoles. It's a game that always means more than the consequences that winning or losing have on either team's chances of winning its conference and the national championship. After it was over, we watched other games with markedly less interest.

Sunday was just part of the day, as we had only time for breakfast with Jeannette before heading to the airport. As one would expect in a small town that many people stay in after growing up there, we ran into a very old family acquaintance. He was most charming and colorful.

As for the flight: Green Airport was again kind to us. We all checked in, and spend a little while longer together before our separate flights split us up. Annie would have one flight a little later, while Mom, Dad and I were together on another flight to Sky Harbor in Phoenix which was to leave sooner. They would then go home, and I would change planes after a layover. The long flight to Phoenix was nice enough being in between my parents as opposed to strangers. Dad had drink coupons, which we made sure to take advantage of. It was a Heineken for both of us. On the four different planes which bracketed the trip, I had that, tomato juice, and Coke along with assorted small snacks.

We finally landed at Sky Harbor and said goodbye without parting. Unfortunately, medical supplies for my injured thumb were in their checked luggage. As I had a short layover, it seemed that it would not be possible to go to the baggage carousel to get it and then pass back through security, so I just resolved to buy them again when I got to LA. Of course, at that time I didn't know that my flight would be delayed for close to three hours. Quite annoying, happening as it did with no explanation. It's not important, really. I'm not going to perseverate on it. They did give out free drinks, after all. More memorable was the planeload of soldiers awaiting the flight which was to take them on their way to deployments. I swear, the concourse was half men and women in fatigues or class A uniforms. Together we watched the fourth quarter of the Cardinals-Titans game. The outcome of the game was as bitter a disappointment as the delay of the flight which I was to discover moments later.

The flight itself was uneventful, but getting from LAX to my apartment on public transportation was interesting. It took four times longer than the drive to that airport a week before, but it was interesting. Paying for the Flyaway bus which would have allowed me to be home in half the time didn't seem worth it as I had nowhere pressing to be that Sunday evening. I got home when I did, and that was the end of it.