I don't like to give any ground to either old age or infirmity, but the simple truth is that, this year anyway, both reared their ugly heads and kept us from hosting the annual Thanksgiving feast. Fortunately, my younger brother Peter, who has a wine glass in his hand, and his wife Cynde, who was, no doubt, getting yet more food ready, were up to the task and put on a fine, fine spread. We gathered together, and that was a blessing. For the simple fact of my being able to attend, much thanks.