andMy parents divorced when I was around six years old and it was settled that the children would spend Thanksgiving with my dad and Christmas with my mom.
The first few Thanksgiving dinners were rough. Turkeys that were dry, like drink a half a glass of water with each bite dry. My sisters and I did not always get along and around the holidays we would fight like cats and dogs more often than not. If you combine this with the fact my dad would not grow into his patience until much later in life, it could make for a loud holiday.
My dad, my sisters and I all got older, not wiser but mellower and with the mellowness came a loudness of a different sort, the laughter of my old man. He could fill the room with his laughter, he could fill his small house and often it would extend to a neighbor or two in their homes.
My dad has been dead for a couple of years and time does make the absence of him less intense it does not make things easier, especially on Thanksgiving.