Mom stopped by today with some leftover chili. Although I was grateful to have a tub of chili occupying an entire shelf in my refrigerator, I knew her visit came with a larger purpose.

     “I want to talk about Thanksgiving,” she said.

     This was understandable. Last year was a disaster. Dad hurt his back playing catch with the football and I was forced into carving a turkey for the first time in my life. Mom put on a good face, but I know she wasn’t happy with the results.

     “Your father is up long before the sun these days,” she said. “He’s training.”

     “For catch?”

     “He’s determined this year.”

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