It has been so long, so long ago and the memory and feeling and even 0dor permeate my being on this healthy hallowed day.  Mother and Father are long gone and grandparents even longer and it is now my time to go, somewhere good, I hope.   The beauty of holidays that celebrate this great nation are ever cast into history for us and all our children to enjoy, as long as we can keep this country together in one piece.  Everyone in this country deserves a Thanksgiving with their family and a bird and ample foodstuff to enjoy the blessings of liberty, even the Wracks.   We are here, our children are there, and there is power and force to make it happen.

Grandpa was there, and so was grandma, and even the Fonz when he wasn’t hiding next door in one of the neighbor’s houses.  The Wracks helps Grandma make the stuffing for the bird, and she adds chicken broth to dried white bread, with onions, garlic, tiny pieces of celery and a lot of love.   Inside the cavity it goes and she tells the Wracks to “put it in the vent and truss it up”, and he ties the back legs together with white twine and it goes into the oven at 350 degrees.  Long green beans steam in the steamer because boiling them makes them fall apart, and these will be anointed with olive oil, parmesan cheese and more garlic powder.   Grandma is small, around five feet high because she had rheumatic fever as a child before they had antibiotics.  She has slightly strawberry blond hair and she says she is Italian with the name of Trump after he changed his name.  She tells the Wracks to “tell everyone you are Italian”, because Grandpa and all his friends in Vegas are Italian.  She says, “tell them you are a paisano and they will like you.”   So, the Wracks tells everyone he is Italian even though he has dark brown hair and an olive complexion like an afghani or Iranian.  Grandpa sits in the green reading chair with the Washington post smoking the usual Roi tan cigar with all the windows open and huge tobacco clouds wafting out to the cool autumnal air.    Grandpa says, “Amerada is up and get more American air lines and TWA.”  Then he takes another puff on his cigar. 

Dinner is on says father Wracks, he is Chinese but tells everyone he is Italian because his mother was Italian and he sits at the head of the table with a large bottle of white wine.  “Everyone, have a glass of wine and say a prayer of thanksgiving that we can all be here together today.”

‘Manga” he says in Italian because all his cronies in the rat pack are Italian and he wants to fit in.  the Fonz is here, slick and dapper in a plaid shirt with a tie.   He looks a trifle bewildered because he has spent the morning with the opposition in the lightning bolt club, but he wants to catch some of grannie’s cooking before he goes back to his friends.  He sits next to grandpa. Saint Grandma sits next to the Wracks and puts all her food on his plate because he knows the spook and his moil are slowly starving him to death.  The all-American family eats and eats with second helpings and the Wracks has a wing and his grandmothers second helping of white meat and a ton of mashed potatoes covered in salty, greasy gravy.  Mom sits on the other side of the table and tonight she wears a wig like carol Burnett, she has a whole arcade of wigs when she goes out of town incognito, and they sit in stands like the joker in Gotham city.  

The wracks are happy.   He has family like most orphans never know and Mom brings in two pies for dessert, a blueberry and an apple pie.   He has a huge slice of each and a mound of vanilla ice cream in a separate dish.  Mother Wracks tells the Wracks to bring in the dishes and he does and puts them in the dishwasher and sets it on.   He will begin scrubbing the pots and pans after they soak in soapy water, this is the trick to soak steel pots and grills so the crust and ash come right off with a Brillo pad.  Grandfather and Grandmother, mom and dad are in the living room with the bright green shag carpet and the antique French furniture where the Wracks is told never to venture. The stereo is on playing Christmas music and the Fonz disappears mysteriously to visit his friends in different houses that the Wracks has never known.   The Wracks cleans the table and gathers the cutlery and counts them because they are sterling silver from an exclusive English fabricator.  He takes the dishes out of the dishwasher and puts them in their special cases, scrubs the pots and pans and then places them in the dishwasher for round two.  The Stirling cutlery must be washed by hand because phosphate detergent deteriorates them. 

Grandpa and Grandma announce they are going to retreat to their white duplex in Brentwood and Mom, Dad and the Wracks see them out to their custom white ford Fairlane with huge fins on the side like a spaceship that the Fonz will inherit and convert to a rolling bordello.   Only the Wracks should be so lucky.  He is happy to have a home to come home to.   The Fairlane rolls away with smiling folk and the Wracks retreats to his bedroom which will soon become his grandmothers, and reads his encyclopedia with a single tensor lamp that his grand father bought him for Christmas.  The Holiday season has begun and all is good.

This and them were so very long ago.  The memories of love, camaraderie and friendship are everlasting and they color your very existence until you pass.  All people deserve a thanksgiving.   All children deserve a home and a religious upbringing.   Without a home during childhood and the teachings of religious ethics, human beings slowly migrate to unscrupulous things.   A person, him or her is made in childhood and the upbringing makes them an ethical productive citizen in society.  Without this, everything is lost and Wracks family and his children, wherever they are wish you a happy and bounteous Thanksgiving today.  God bless America, and let us provide justice, secure the blessings of liberty and provide for the common defense.  Mao.