Janet and I have a baby boy named Benjamin. He was born July 26th this year. 
I'm celebrating the day with Janet's family at their home here in Hanover. In fact, we spent last Night here so as to make it easier to do much of the cooking and caring for those in need.
Janet's mom had a stroke a week ago.
You can imagine the impact that has on a family during the holidays. But the worse part of it is that the stroke seems to be at least partially caused by cancer. Yes, she has cancer. One of the more serious forms that is highly resistant to treatment. One that carries with it an inevitable conclusion. Perhaps I'll address this further in another web log. But for now, let us stay with the matter at hand.
I think Thanksgiving has a special feel to it here in Massachusetts, being so close to the site of the first such event as celebrated by the colonists in this New World. It's more than just the history though. It's partially the foliage and the landscape itself. Maybe it's that the foods they ate are indigenous to the area and can readily be grown? Squashes, corn, beans, and the like. 
I wanted to make traditional succatash this year. I doubt anyone would have liked it, frankly. I doubt even that I would have had more than a few bites myself. But it would have been fun to do it in the spirit of historical Thanksgivings.
I think the weather contributes also to the spirit of Thanksgiving here in Massachusetts. There is something in the air. To quote Agent Smith, "It's the smell." There is something about New England air that tells you quite accurately what time of year it is. Halloween has a smell, so does Thanksgiving. No, not the smell of food cooking. It's an outdoor smell. You know it when you sense it; in fact, you know it from childhood. That is the better part of any holiday, I think. The smell.
