Goodbye to all that

I believe that is why I learned to love the wings, crispy like dry leaves. My mother saved them for me -- that is, in the days before she and the rest of the family stopped talking to me.

The last family Thanksgiving I attended was in 1975. Everyone -- aunts, uncles, cousins, parents and siblings -- stopped communicating with me in early 1976, right after I announced that I was getting a divorce.

While I was married, my parents complained that my husband did not make enough money. My aunt said he dressed like a hippie. My brother, well, he liked him.

After the divorce, I became the enemy. They told their friends, by way of an explanation, "Gayle has become a radical feminist!" And then they invited my ex-husband into their homes and fed him and gave him money to pay for his divorce.

So Thanksgiving 1976 was all mine. I purchased a fresh free-range turkey and marinated it for 24 hours in wine, soy sauce, garlic and ginger. While it baked, I basted every 15 minutes until it shone and glistened. At 8 in the morning I made fresh hummus and baked pita bread and blueberry muffins. By 10, my table was set with linen, crystal and china. I wore my Indian madras skirt with a white Tibetan shirt. My guests arrived at 3:30 for hors d'oeuvres and champagne.

My turkey was perfect. The skin was crisp from a glaze of honey and butter. My mashed potatoes were smooth and buttery. The cranberry sauce was surrounded with applesauce and mint jelly. I served homemade peach cobbler with homemade vanilla ice cream. We had thin mints.

There were no relatives at my table. No one smoked. There was no football on the television. There was no television set. Several of the guests brought their instruments and offered Vivaldi after dinner. We drank Turkish coffee in the living room.

In the quiet time just after the dishes were cleared and washed, the musicians played. We sat on the red Victorian couch and on the antique rocker and on oak chairs. Everyone was full and relaxed.

When it was time for the evening to end, my friend Mimi stood up and walked from the dining room and down the long hall. Just before she put on her coat to leave, she said, "Gayle, those are the most beautiful lithographs I have ever seen -- and you have so many of them. I love what you've done with your walls."

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