A Thanksgiving Story

For the longest time I never really "got" Thanksgiving. In my experience it meant seeing my normally placid mom edge ever closer to a Joan Crawford-style nervous breakdown--and always over something as innocuous as marshmallow-topped sweet potatoes or canned, yes CANNED, cranberry sauce. My sister and I were her less-than-enthusiastic assistants. And as for Dad, his only contribution was carving the turkey. Unless you count asking every fifteen minutes when it was going to be ready. As a result Thanksgiving “dinner” gradually became brunch and since it was not a meal to be particularly savored (witness the green bean casserole, which consisted of canned green beans and Durkee’s french fried onions), it lasted all of about 15 minutes. Including the pumpkin pie. Anyway, this Thanksgiving I'm joining my friend Gabrielle, who happens to be a stellar cook, and her boyfriend Bubbi (rhymes with hubby) in Portland. Side trip to Astoria, where they filmed The Goonies, included. And I can't wait to visit bibliophile Mecca, Powell's City of Books.

Image: Getty, j8179-001