The Unbearable Strangeness of Seeing

The above photo is from Thanksgiving 2008, filled with the energy of Yes We Can. And then you catch glances of your self as seen through memory and time. It is a kaleidoscope of fragments keenly felt rather than duly noted with the cool eye of a dispassionate observer. In so many family photos, one would never imagine the sorrows and shadows of Miscommunication, yet one knows it happened. Didn't it? Or else one surely wouldn't feel that way, would one?

Thanksgiving 2006

    This is a nod to several Thanksgivings. My esteemed brother is always present and with various children coming and going, the loss of a parent and the addition of friends, your loyal blogger and loving spouse age before your very eyes, filled with turkeys, lobsters, hubris and wonder.                

 

Thanksgiving 2008

 

Thanksgiving away from the Big House 2012

Perhaps this is the ironic comedy of aging, or is it the regrettable inability to see a story from the other guy's perspective?

As we attempt not to cower, nor throw stones at glass houses, one struggles to imagine desperately pooling your resources to get on that boat to Greece, cell phone in saran wrap and child bundled up, grasping at your hand, as you bravely squeeze in among the others and pray no one drowns and just pray it will be okay when you reach the other side.

It's what the first celebrants of Thanksgiving went through. Albeit they didn't have cell phones. Or saran wrap. Or the internet. But I digress because here, in the Garden State, I blog and dabble as I muse over Thanksgiving's dinner and who will sit where.

Today's Brian Lehrer show, http://www.wnyc.org/shows/bl/ had callers describe their own families being denied asylum by the United States during the Nazi regime. Happily, a generation or two later, they made it to New York and are now listeners of public radio, living in the metropolitan area. 

 

 

Thanksgiving 2014, first course in Chelsea, second course on Sutton Place to follow

In 2010, we left our home, shamefully awkward (in the way that only the best British novelists can describe) because it had all gone awry. Through a series of happy accidents, phone calls, tenacity, paperwork and Grace, it has been restored to us, and I am overcome with gratitude and relief. All I can add is Thank You. Oh, and perhaps this year the spouse will sport a different color than blue. Just to shake things up a bit. Gobble, gobble.

 

 

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The process

Blessings abound. In the face of current events am reminded how staggeringly lucky I am to be concerned with a porch in the suburbs rather than by- any myriad of tragedies. Breathtaking beauty  surrounds us. Look at the magnificent porch floor. Talk about your makeovers.

The porch before renovation

From this

Endless beginning of porch renovation

Masked man on a scaffold.

to this!

to this!

And from this....

And from this....

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To THIS! oh yes indeed

Blessings abound.Now for the Autumnal Beauty Shots!

while the porch railing remains exactly where it is

watch the leaves change

from this

from this

to this

to this

Your loyal blogger

wrestling with high class problems

wrestling with high class problems

while the boys celebrate their differences

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celebrating differences