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I can’t tell you if it was the fact that alcoholism dominated our family dynamics or if it was a legacy affect from dysfunction going way back, but Thanksgiving was often a hit-and-always-miss during my growing up years.


We’d make those holidays mishap movies that frame the disasters as if they are necessary comedic relief episodes instead of what they really are when a family experiences them… nightmares that make you never want to participate again.Let me give you an example.

It’s not just my dad that was an alcoholic. Both his parents were. And his mother, who we all called Huddle, was a feisty, bitter woman. Maybe that was her drunk self. It’s possible she was nicer when sober. One time, all four of us arriving for Thanksgiving, found my grandmother, in her kitchen, drunk as a skunk in her underwear, cig dangling from her lips, doing what some drunk people do. “I’ll tell the world one thing” she’d start off as she sipped on her cocktail. Sh