ABSTRACT
I remember the first time the dreaded topic was raised with my family. It was Thanksgiving dinner and the entire clan had made it home for the holiday. That it was, in fact, a holiday was evident by the unusually strict adherence to terms. For one thing, we were dining in the actual dining room. And the tablecloth was real cloth. The glasses were glass and the silver was-well, OK, the silver was stainless steel. But it was still a special day, and I, for one, was determined to treat it as such.
