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OK, folks, help me out here. Tell me if you think this is silly.

Every year when I disassemble the artificial Christmas tree, I write up a short note to myself and tuck it into the box before carting it out to the garage. Usually it’ll start with something like “Hi, hope you had a great year,” and then continue with some current family news and a few hopes for the future, like “Sean should be fully graduated from college and maybe has a teaching job?” Usually, by the time Christmas rolls around again, I have forgotten I wrote the note and it comes as a pleasant surprise. I enjoy reliving last year’s and this year’s memories while I hang ornaments.

Last year, though, when I unearthed the note, my daughter Sara gave me a lot of grief about it. She thought it was sappy.

That didn’t stop me, though. Sure enough, when I opened the Christmas tree carton Friday, there was my little note poking out of the branches.  But Sara’s comments must have had some effect. This time around the note was a bit more professional, without the “sappy” personal stuff.  I limited it to details about things like what decorations I needed to replace and how the cat denuded the entire bottom quarter of the Christmas tree. I didn’t even add a short “Hi, how are you?” greeting.

How about you? Do you ever do something like this? Do you think it’s overly sentimental?

By the way, if you zoom in on the photo of this year’s note, you’ll see the first sentence reads: “Don’t tell Sara I’m writing this. She thinks it’s stupid.”

Oops.

I saw the most amusing little scene play itself out yesterday afternoon.  As I was driving home from Thomas High School on Publisher’s Parkway, I passed a flock of about 30 Canada geese gathered on the north side of the road. To a goose, they were all peering at the roadway, and standing very still on the grass, a safe distance from the passing traffic.

Well, not quite all of them.  One solitary goose was inching his (her?) way closer and closer to the road.  As I drove slowly past, I watched him creep every so slowly onto the shoulder, while the rest of the flock stood and watched.

I was hooked. I just HAD to see how this was going to play out. So I pulled off to the side of the road to see what was going to happen next.

Step by step, the goose waddled tentatively into the roadway. For almost a minute, he was close enough to the roadside that drivers just went around him.  But at long last, the goose had made his way to the middle of the road, effectively stopping traffic.

Then, and only then, did the rest of the flock start across.

I didn’t hang around long enough to see if all the other geese gave their brave friend a high five or slap on the back.  But as I drove away, I did wonder how that poor sap had landed such a dangerous mission.  Did he volunteer? Maybe he pulled the short straw.  Perhaps it was some sort of goose gang initiation. Or maybe a Birda Poopa Epsilon fraternity hazing.

Or maybe, just like all of us after a long day of work, they just wanted to have a little fun. So they decided to play a game of … you guessed it … chicken.

I have a wonderfully crazy, off-the-wall, funny, and incredibly talented family.

I was reminded of that this past weekend when my husband, kids and I traveled down to Greene to celebrate Thanksgiving with my side of the family.  We try to do this every year on the weekend after Thanksgiving, but this year was a little different from most, in that it was the largest of these gatherings we have ever had.

By the time everyone had arrived for dinner, there were 21 of us:  my 84-year old father, four of his five children (with the exception of my brother Jim), all 7 of his grandchildren, and assorted wives, husbands and significant others.   Most notably, it was first time ever that Dad was able to celebrate Thanksgiving with all of his grandchildren.

As close a family as we are, you can totally understand that hosting that many people in my sister’s home for dinner would probably have led to fist fights.  So she very wisely arranged with her good friend Bonnie Cobb to “borrow” Bonnie’s Restaurant in downtown Greene for the evening.  Everybody brought a dish to pass, which led to a very eclectic, non-traditional Italian/American/summer-barbecue-themed Thanksgiving buffet, including all sorts of beverages, appetizers and desserts, stretching from one end of Bonnie’s counter to the other.

And over in the corner, patiently awaiting the end of dinner, sat a pile of instruments.

You see, when the cousins get together, without question there’s going to be a jam session. All four of my nephews are super-talented musicians who play a variety of instruments. Put them in the same room with their cousin Sean and his fiddle, mandolin and cajon, and what resulted was an hour-long post-dinner bluegrass, Irish and classical music concert. Sean’s friend Sarah King, the other half of Barry’s Crossing, even set up her keyboard to provide backup and vocals.

But the evening would not have been complete without stepping outside to participate in the family’s annual tradition: stripping off our socks and shoes and walking barefoot in the snow. Fortunately, snow had been falling all evening and about two inches of the fluffy stuff was awaiting our toes.

We have been honoring this tradition in my family for, well, going on 75 years or more now.  This was the first time, however, that my father has been with us when we’ve done it.  And 84-year old trouper he is, he tramped out into that snow with the rest of us, grinning all the time. It’s stuff like this that makes my family unlike any other.  Here’s hoping that your Thanksgiving family get-togethers were as memorable. On to Christmas!

This is my family. After the family photo, they broke out spontaneously into “Hooked on a Feeling.” No one knows why. Click to see the video.

And if you’re at all interested, click on the photo to see a short selection from the jam session that broke out after dinner.

Last year on Thanksgiving Day I wrote the following blog, with the conviction that it’s the simple things in life for which we should be most thankful. In today’s world, which seems to be getting more materialistic by the minute (as evidenced by Black Friday extending to Black Thursday), I think that message is more important than ever.

So I’ve decided to post that blog again, with a few updates:

I am thankful for:

My husband, my kids, having a nice home and enough food for the table, my cats, my karate family, my job, friends at my job, good neighbors, good health, my family’s good health, my terrific in-laws, my father, my siblings, the color and crunch of autumn leaves, flowering trees in the spring, rain on the porch roof, Easter baskets, Tiny Tigers, line-dried laundry, lilacs, Christmas Eve snow, sunshine, Friday summer nights on the porch with a beer, sunsets, thunderstorms, warm summer rains, starry nights, blankets in the winter, fires in the wood stove, weekends, Christmas lights, writing my blog, hugs, leaf piles for jumping in, crisp new sheets, the summer breeze that comes in my bedroom window, daffodils, baby giggles, holding hands with my husband, memories of my mother, picnics, camping, hot soaking baths, the WOFs, fog in the valleys, puppies and kittens, spooning, Christmas trees on Christmas morning, cinnamon buns right out of the oven, my mother’s banana bread recipe, reading a good book, the sound of crickets in summer, strangers who return my smile, warm apple pie…

and … watching Glee with my daughter, my new Barry’s family, baby snuggles, naps, after-dinner walks, sleeping in, “Caledonia,” my kids (I know that’s a repeat, but they continue to make me proud), hiking, fuzzy pajama pants, rainbows, my cat keeping me company while I write…feel free to add your own.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.