giving thanks

Happy 77th birthday, John Winston Lennon. Much missed. I can only imagine what songs you'd be writing today in your adopted home, a country more murderous and mad than ever.

And Happy Thanksgiving to all Canadians today. It's warm and wet here in Toronto. Anna and family are on their way back from the country, as four small boys in a field in the the rain is not so much fun. Sam spent yesterday making marinades for fish and meat and preparing a vat of his spectacular French onion soup, which is resting on the stove now.

Yesterday was my mother's birthday; she would have been 94. How I wish she could see her grandchildren and great-grandchildren today, and for that matter, her profoundly grateful daughter. We'll drink a toast tonight to her, to Dad, to Edgar's parents Connie and Edgar Sr. and to his brother Don, to our much-loved ones now gone. And yes, to John Lennon, almost family, too.