It is, I think, significant that certain days stand out in memory and beckon for our attention and reflection. We purpose them, plan them and then, counter intuitively, allow our plans to unfold, acknowledging in so many words that plans are (very routinely) lists of things that do not happen. And these plans and the reality that follows them quickly become the stuff of myth and legend. The thanksgiving dinner, when the daughter of your second cousin turned the heat up on the stove and browned, blackened and burnt the Bird beyond recognition as the until-that-moment-quiet nephew began to pour gravy into the sweet potatoes, quietly begs to be recounted over Thanksgivings present and future. The road trips to homes of friends and family, which began in earnest and ended in cheap motel rooms, sadly picking away at KFC drumsticks as we imagined that heroic bird, great and glistening, laid to final rest upon the dinner table to be drawn and quartered before the family, still await us through unsuspecting short cuts and diversions. These days we set aside to celebrate human virtues (gratefulness, giving, sacrifice, honor) become and remain so (in the heart and mind of this reporter) only by the effort we exert to honor the values for which they stand. In that spirit, I would like to share my thanks for those that have stood by me, beaten me when I needed it, lifted me when I could not walk, encouraged me, laughed with me, shared time and money and shoulders. I am, in short, inexhaustibly grateful to you: my friends and family. I hope this Thanksgiving found you well, with full bellies and loosened belts and leftovers on speed dial. Nurse your bellies, all of you.