The crisp, cool, and cinnamon air filled the morning of Thanksgiving in 1987. Although I was only two years and eleven months old, I remember the scratchy, fuzzy, purple- footed pajamas that I was wearing that morning. After I woke up, I "helped" my mom make her famous orange- cranberry relish, got dressed in my cream sweater dotted with cherries and my navy pleated skirt, topped off with my favorite cream fuzz- warn tights, and before I knew it we were out the door to my grandmother's house. After an early dinner with my grandparents, mom, and dad, my grandfather and dad left to catch the Dallas Cowboys Thanksgiving Day football game, leaving the rest of us to find entertainment of our own.
Upon their departure, my mom began gathering dis...
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