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Dean Haspiel

History

23rd November 2007

12:09pm: Triptophan
I had a very nice Thanksgiving afternoon with my father and a couple of his friends in Easthampton. Besides transportation, the only good thing about riding the Long Island Railroad is that you get to catch up on missed reading and there is a stack of comix next to my bed that is THIS high. THE INCREDIBLE HULK 111 tugged at my heart strings when Hercules was forced to hold up a ravaged section of Manhattan from sinking into the river with the might of his strength while the Hulk and Sentry fought it out in WORLD WAR HULK. As the sublevels began to flood, Namora, elected to stay with Hercules and provide him with oxygen between underwater kisses. What a god needs oxygen for, I don't know, but is this the start of a Greek/Atlantean romance? Bestill my heart.

I asked dad if we should invite Harold, the 82-year old next door neighbor and World War II veteran, over to our modest turkey dinner and he thought it was a good idea. My brother and I used to play with Harold's kids during the late 70s/early 80s when I would summer in Easthampton and I hadn't seen much of him since. He was old and semi-deaf yet sturdy and he had planned to heat up a can of soup for the holiday so he was grateful for the invitation. During dinner, we talked about this and that and I wondered what Thanksgiving was like for folks back in the day. "What were people thankful for?" Harold shared a fond memory of his youth when his grandfather, a farmer, would round up his slaves on Christmas day and let each one of them take a peek through their large living room window at the beautiful Christmas tree that had been trimmed to the nines. And, as they left to go back to their quarters, Harold's grandfather would hand each one of them a cube of caramel for Christmas.

The turkey started to kick in and I got sleepy.
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