I still haven’t quite gotten used to being the older generation at my family/friends, multigenerational Thanksgiving dinner.

I still haven’t quite gotten used to being the older generation at my family/friends, multigenerational Thanksgiving dinner. In some ways, Thanksgiving is a lot easier now. Rick and I used to drive to Rhode Island every year to spend Thanksgiving with Rick’s relatives. Rick and I for so many years were the middle generation. His parents are deceased and we now we spend Thanksgiving with my sister, her friends and their children; now we just drive to the Philadelphia suburbs.

My husband and I were the oldest people sitting around the table; next my sister, her husband and friends in their early 60’s: then the generation ranging from late 20’s to early 40’s and at last the next generation— beautiful 4 month old Evan.

My son Cris who has never been able to shake off the old holiday habits from those joint custody days of his childhood has two Thanksgiving dinners—one with his father’s family and one with us.
Cris after having eaten 2 Thanksgiving dinners


One of the really bizarre aspects of getting older is the way our sense of self lags so far behind our chronological age. When my brother-in- law kindly announced our arrival with “Here come the old people,” my initial reaction was, “Who me?” But as Rick says, “Get used to it.” At least we’re still here, and we have each other, and some wonderful folks to spend Thanksgiving with.