Soon we’ll be making final preparations for the Thanksgiving feast. Tables will groan under the weight of the turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, casseroles of all sorts and a dizzying array of desserts. Awhile later, we all will be groaning under the weight of our consumption. In times past, as I wallowed underneath the strain of my belt I liked to look around at my family and friends and remind myself what a lucky man I was.
I’m approaching sixty years old. Until a few months ago I was blessed to have both parents in my life. Thankfully, I still have Mother and I hope she’ll be around until I reach a hundred. These disjointed thoughts somehow led me to remember Dad’s love of poetry.
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