A Blast from Thanksgiving Days of the past…
Same place, different holiday, but you get the idea. ca. 1972
Once upon a Thanksgiving Day, the only room large enough to host the Lambo family was in my grand-parents basement that had been fitted with a second kitchen just for such occasions. The oblong, wood-panelled room sported a bar at the far end fashioned from the same panelling that covered the cinder-block walls. Its red speckled linoleum top ran just about the width of the room under a casement window that looked onto the shrub lined cement driveway.
A few cousins, my younger sister, and I often played behind the bar, rummaging through an assorted collection of treasures—pirate ship embossed coasters, gold-rimmed wine glasses, wrinkled sepia photos of the old country, and glass cocktail stirrers topped with fruits, animals, and, close your eyes now, slim naked women.
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Because Angela and Becca have spent the last year exploring painful human struggles, they wanted to highlight a very important aspect of overcoming difficult circumstances: it can make us stronger. I promised to let Angela hijack my blog today, so please read on!
What’s the connection?
With the weather taking a turn, I ditched the broom and opted for United Airlines. Once we reached our cruising altitude, the skies turned friendly, reflecting the lovely crew members’ cordiality, making my journey to Scotland if not completely comfortable (22F had its challenges) at least sociable, swift, and safe. Even if they had been rude, nothing could have spoiled my excitement over a reunion with friends I’d only visited separately during the last nine years.
Ready, aim, fire! It’s no use taking careful aim, though. By the time I catch my subject dead center between the crosshairs, it’s too late – a blip in the landscape – gone faster than you can say, “Gotcha!”
Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner 