my grandson, myself, and my son at Thanksgiving 2024
The week of Thanksgiving has always been my favorite of the year. One of the best things is the week of birthdays in my family. I was born on Thanksgiving, November 28, and my dad was born on November 25. Thanksgiving gatherings were when we celebrated our birthdays together. Every year my father would tell the story of how, when he was serving in Iran during World War II, he dreamed of having a child when he would get home. That child’s name would start with an R, in memory of his mother, Rebeccah, who had died when he was only six years old.
He wanted to name me Robert and my mother wanted to name me Robin. They compromised by calling me Robbie. Thanksgiving sparks memories that are all too wonderful to convey. But I’ll start with a few. As part of the Detroit Lions/Green Bay Packers rivalry on Thanksgiving day, my uncle Sonny Schulz and his son, Sparky, on a freezing November day, took me and my dad to Briggs Stadium to see the game. As we had never been to a game in the cold before, none of us wore warm shoes. By halftime, we were so distracted by our freezing feet that we could hardly enjoy the game. 70 years later, I wonder what happened to Jerry/Sparky Schulz. I hope you enjoyed the Lions victory over the Bears last week. The Michigan-Ohio State rivalry remains one of the highlights of the Thanksgiving weekend. The first one I could remember, I was captivated by a halfback on the Ohio State team, his name was Howard Hopalong Cassady. His name was what captured me the most. I thought he was the Hopalong Cassady from the TV cowboy show. I think Michigan lost. A year later, we were thrilled to have Cassady‘s roommate, Paul Berryman, as our gym teacher at Paul L. Best Elementary School. I’ve watched every moment of the U of M – OSU game since then. None was more satisfying than last week’s thrilling defeat of Ohio State in Columbus. As an only child, I used to eagerly await my cousin Ricky and his family who drove in every year from their home in Brooklyn, Michigan. I remember one year when it was snowing very badly, and I was afraid they would not make it. I remember waiting out in the cold in our driveway looking for their 57 four-door Chevy to pull into our street, Meadowlark. Another thrill of Thanksgiving week was helping to make ice rinks in Mike Martlock’s and Dale and John Marr‘s backyards. As soon as we could, we would don our shinguards and skates and play hockey for hours. I was so proud of being a hockey player that I remember wearing my hockey gear to visit my girlfriend on Thanksgiving weekend. The worst Thanksgiving was November 28, 1963. Our President and hero, John F. Kennedy, was assassinated one week earlier on November 22. It seemed like the whole country was mourning so deeply that none of us could celebrate Thanksgiving. Instead, most of us were in tears. The Sunday after Thanksgiving, we watched a horror on live TV as Lee Harvey Oswald was shot to death. One highly memorable Thanksgiving occurred in 1968. My girlfriend, Pat, and I were so in love that we couldn’t wait to return from our homes to Ann Arbor the day after Thanksgiving to be together for that long weekend. Ah, the power and joy of romance. This weekend, Pat and I will be celebrating our 58th Thanksgiving together. Beginning in the 1970s, we would come home from Boston to celebrate Thanksgiving at my aunt Alice‘s house. She had made the climb from secretary to become head of the Peace Corps for the Midwest. She would invite Peace Corps volunteers from around the world to celebrate Thanksgiving with us. We would be crowded around her card tables in her living room, savoring her wonderful tales of their volunteer work around the world. One Thanksgiving, we stayed back in Cambridge to entertain our friends. Since we were short on both furniture and cash, the day before Thanksgiving, our artistic neighbor, John Petropoulos, took us on a whirlwind trip around Boston to buy inexpensive decorations for our apartment on Ellery St. Working till midnight, John helped us stack door tops on used tables, which were highlighted by a giant Japanese lantern hung from a ceiling. The party was a huge success. The next day I remember going to what I recall as a stoned cold post-Thanksgiving at our friends, Steve and Jolie, from Texas. Football on the front lawn/bonfire/s’mores/and an abundance of other refreshments, which are only now legal.
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