Growing up in a middle-class family, we always had more than enough to share, especially during the holidays.
Thanksgiving in my family can be described as a rambunctious cacophony of mashed starches, oversized sweaters, and a plethora of delicious smoked meats.
My mother slaved over gurgling pots of tart cranberries, spiced apples and mulled wine, and my father would set off to smoke the turkey, crack open a pale ale and listen to the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
Our family would gather around our Thanksgiving feast and portion out the lavish dinner and our thanks;
"I'm truly grateful for this moment, but I feel spoiled... what if we did something else" my grin expressed the thought.
This suggestion subsequently took flight as we broke our Thanksgiving