[Publius]

The "huge table" ended when my maternal grandmother died at age 89 from a heart attack. She was cooking Christmas dinner when she felt the elephant sitting on her chest. A drama queen to the end, she laid down on the floor, crossed her arms and arranged herself as though she were in her coffin. Her elderly unmarried daughter found her.

From that point on, I simply watched as her middle aged progeny died from alcoholism, pneumonia, a perforated duodenal ulcer (my mother), advanced Parkinson's, and senile dementia.

I left that whole thing when I went into the Army in 1971 and went from Philadelphia to the West Coast. I never looked back, and I don't regret it. They were always at each other's throats when they weren't at the "huge table."

[cripplecreek]

We had Christmas at my grandmother’s house last weekend. She’s 97 and has terminal cancer and her time is growing very short. I may get out there for a little while tomorrow if she feels up to it.

She’s ready and will probably go in her sleep at home where she belongs. Weeks if not days.

[firebrand]

I just discovered that a restaurant nearby has a full Italian fish dinner on Christmas Eve. The place was jammed. Only $65 a person without wine, tax, or tip. Wadda deal!

I was happy with a dozen Malpeques and a Hudson Valley sparkling wine.

Maybe next year . . .