The turkey carcass is down to bones. The mashed potatoes are nothing more than a sad, hopeful, metallic scraping—some people just can’t accept that gone is gone. The pinto beans and ham are in Tupperware, divided 14 ways. The last biscuit is a memory.
more about: Thanksgiving
It’s Not Thanksgiving Without A Call From Mom
We asked some of our favorite scribes to riff on the part of their down-home Thanksgiving they simply couldn’t do without. Here’s what they said. (Stay tuned for more…) I’ve spent Thanksgiving in Mobile, Alabama, with my husband’s family ever since we married 14 years ago, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Never-ending Grace
Before a waiting feast, eternal blessings are what a child endures and an old man learns to savor.
It’s Not Thanksgiving Without Mema’s China
We asked some of our favorite scribes to riff on the part of their down-home Thanksgiving they simply couldn’t do without. Here’s what they said. (Stay tuned for more…) I grew up in Atlanta in a tight-knit Jewish family. We had distinctly casual dinners—old photos show ketchup and cans of cola on the table. But my Mema strove to make […]










