Thanksgiving week in Providence

A cold rain has settled over Providence this last day of November. Fortunately, however, Thanksgiving week was blessedly free of any serious weather problems so travelers skirting up and down I-95 had plenty of opportunity to sit in long lines but at least free of bad weather.

As for us, well by now you probably know that we spent a quiet but very pleasant Thanksgiving day with Susie's family in nearby Douglas, MA.

It was a quiet, but oddly pleasant Thanksgiving. We drove to Dick and Dorothy's house and were soon followed by Susan's Uncle Frank, his wife Cathy and their daughter Mieke as well as Susan's younger sister Mary and her friend Larry. We spent a warm afternoon chatting and eating Dorothy's incredible holiday meal. Truly a day to give thanks!

And speaking of thanks we are both still, as Carroll O'Connor says in Return to Me, "blessed with work." It was a short week for me -- only a half day on Wednesday and then the university was closed up for the rest of the week. Susie, of course, still had to bake up and plan out desserts through the weekend though.

Susie and I closed out the week with a dinner Saturday night at Chez Pascal on the east side of Providence. Billed as French bistro style the food was incredible. You can find out more online at my Providence food blog.

We are so thankful to be able to have a warm home, to be living an adventure of a lifetime and, quite simply, to be together, Susie and I.

This coming week, the first week in December, we hope to hear about the DNA test results and whether I will get my dad back. Of course, he has never left me, that's true. His spirit will always be with me.

Sound sappy. Maybe so but consider this:

In 1956 a hardworking cookie salesman spends two years and nearly 30 grand looking for his youngest son who has been abducted by his own mother after an ugly divorce and spirited off to the West Coast. The father finally tracks them down, first in Los Angeles and then across the wastes of the Great Plains, finds his son in Canby, Minnesota.

It was in 1958, just a few days before my father married for the third and final time to a woman who was for all intents and purposes my "real" mother, and just three weeks before my 10th birthday that I came to live with my dad. Forever.

Every Thanksgiving I am incredibly thankful for the father that I have -- not had but have now and always. In my heart.

Thanks pop!