While I was growing up, my family would ask me, each Thanksgiving, to begin our feast with a prayer. Dwarfed by a long, polished cherry table and the Dickensian turkey plopped obscenely before me, I dutifully delivered a solemn blessing: eyes closed, rep tie half-Windsored, hair brushed sensibly across my...
Posted November 25, 2009 | 11:33 AM (EST)