The crazy thing is my mom wasn’t even staying in the hotel that burned down. She stopped in to play the slot machines about 15 minutes before it was set on fire by an angry employee.

I’m grateful for memories but only wish I could recall more.

(And this image was captured in Las Vegas 1985 at a TV convention she was speaking where her laughter was evident. And yes, I can still hear it today.❤️)

The flour that would cover the table as she helped me roll out dough for her version of rugelach (which she called horns and strudel.) And of course as I grew into my teens, the natural arguing as I would want to rush out the door to be with friends as soon as the meal was complete.

But for some strange reason it is the Thanksgiving memories from years earlier that are still crystal clear in my foggy memories. Even today, I literally can smell the sage seasoning that we used to sprinkle on the sautéed onions, mushrooms, and bread cubes that would become the stuffing.

Time to get out the deep fryer 🫠

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I still miss snow. Growing up in the 1970s, in upstate New York, we would almost always have snow on Thanksgiving. Those days are long gone.