I’VE BEEN THINKING

In 1991, I joined a men’s group that became a cornerstone of my life, yet when my marriage faltered years later, I found myself alone, harboring hurt and anger toward these men who didn’t reach out as I struggled. It wasn’t until years later—after their unwavering support during my son’s death and my health struggles—that I asked the question I was afraid to confront: What’s wrong with me? I realized I had spent my life projecting strength and self-sufficiency, convincing others and myself that I didn’t need help. This reflection led me to understand how fear of vulnerability and conditional love shaped my relationships. While I’ve begun to share my true self with a few trusted loved ones, the journey toward transparency and intimacy remains fraught, as the fear of rejection often feels like too great a risk to take.

My earliest Thanksgiving memory, at about ten years old, was a chaotic family gathering at a Hollywood hotel banquet room, a rare luxury for our working-class clan. That day, my embittered grandfather’s lengthy prayer set the tone for a meal that contrasted starkly with Norman Rockwell’s idyllic depiction of Thanksgiving in Freedom from Want. Over the years, Thanksgiving has come to embody not only the warmth of family but also the complexities and tensions that arise in any gathering. For Becky and me, our new tradition of dining at the bar of our favorite restaurant, mingling with bartenders and fellow patrons, offers a refreshing and personal way to celebrate—a reminder that Thanksgiving, like family itself, can evolve while holding on to what truly matters.

As I prepare to cast my sixteenth vote for president in the upcoming election between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump, I reflect on the journey of a lifetime in American democracy. From the optimism of voting for Lyndon Johnson and Barack Obama to the heartbreak of losses like Al Gore and Hillary Clinton, each election has shaped my understanding of politics and governance. The assassination of JFK, the upheaval of 1968, and the rise of MAGA politics have challenged my belief in progress and truth. Now, at 83, my vote is less about my own future and more about preserving democracy for my grandchildren—a future where truth prevails, freedoms endure, and hope remains a guiding light.