Thanksgiving at the old homestead...

Although in truth, I never lived long enough here to make it feel like home. Maybe this lack of a feeling of "connectedness" with a place is why I can move around so easily.

I have fleeting childhood memories of living in places before we settled in the apartment on 79th Street near 37th Avenue in Jackson Heights, in Queens, but all of my formative years were spent with my parents in that apartment. My grandmother lived with us for a while, then moved to Astoria, and finally to an apartment 5 blocks away from us, and though I recall with fondness the many hours and weekends spent with her, home was our apartment on 79th Street.

In those days, Jackson Heights was a quiet place that hardly ever figured in the news. Indeed, the only mention I recall of the place was in a line from the theme song to the comedy series Car 54, Where Are You?

There's a holdup in the Bronx!
Brooklyn's broken out in fights!
There's a traffic jam in Harlem
That's backed up to Jackson Heights!
There's a scout troop short a child!
Khruschev's due at Idlewild!...
...Car 54, where are you?

I'm mildly surprised I can still recall it, as we (meaning my dad) hardly ever watched the series. (And if you know who Khruschev was and what "Idlewild" refers to, either you're a history trivia buff or someone whose birthday cake poses a fire hazard when the candles are lit!)

Anyway, comes my junior year of high school and my parents move out to the Island. The move comes one week after the start of the school year. Of the four honors subjects I am eligible for, I am asked to select one (the local high school is small, with something under 200 students in my graduating class).

I demonstrate an uncommon degree of stupidity by asking for honors social studies, basing my choice on the fact that I've always been able to breeze through social studies. I will come to regret that decision during freshman year at Stony Brook, as I struggle to understand calculus in physics before it's taught in math, but I digress...

The move also disrupts my social life, or what passed for my social life at the time, but that's enough kvetching for Thanksgiving. My parents, who were married for 48 years until death parted them, spent nearly four decades of that time in this house, apparently happy. I would earnestly like to continue the tradition.

* * *Returning the truck this morning was an adventure. The appointed dropoff location was, in fact, closed, which I pretty much expected, it being Thanksgiving and all. What I did not expect was a big, husky gate blocking entrance to the parking lot and no way to park the rig and drop off the key.

I called the Penske toll-free number and explained the situation. The lady helpfully volunteered that I could drive to Rochester, New York and drop off the truck there. I mentioned that Rochester was about 300 miles away, and did they perhaps have anything, um, closer? Lacking that, would they please waive their $100-per-day late fee if I brought the truck by tomorrow? Waiving the fee was no problem, said my interlocutor, but how did I feel about driving to Hicksville to drop off the truck?

Hey! Shiny! (I was really looking forward to getting rid of the truck.)

So I drove to Hicksville (with Galina following in the Focus) and dropped off the truck after locking it and pushing the key through the outfit's mail slot. That took care of that, until later in the day, when I realized that I must have left a set of house keys in the cab. I suppose this means I get to go to Hicksville again tomorrow (but only after calling to make sure they're open and that, indeed, the keys are there). Such is life.

* * *I've completed and sent off a 2700 word assignment, leaving me with just about exactly 16,000 source words to do, half deliverable on Monday, and the other half deliverable Tuesday. Based on how I feel right now, I could probably knock off 1,000 words before going to sleep, but there is a persistent little voice in the back of my head that insists I make my proper prostrations - as belated and feeble as they might be - in the direction of Thanksgiving. Now.

And so I shall.

Cheers...