It was always a festive occasion when my mother’s family converged on my grandparents’ little house for holidays.
Because they were a remarkably witty clan, the walls reverberated with clever repartee, laughter and the singing of silly songs, while Grandpa played the spoons and tap-danced around the tiny kitchen.
I’ll never forget, however, the Thanksgiving that my uncles volunteered for kitchen duty after the meal. After slogging through several dishpans full of greasy dishes and cookware, Uncle Bud staggered into the dining room to enjoy a well-earned cup of coffee and a smoke. When another member of the kitchen patrol refused to let him dirty a newly clean teaspoon, Uncle Bud cheerfully stirred his coffee with his cigar. I miss that goofy bunch.
Mary F. Williams, Miami