Thanksgiving

Started the day in Santa Fe, but drove to Albuquerque to catch an 8 a.m. flight for Denver, and then another hop to Fargo. Very pleasant. The terminals were surprisingly crowded and the planes were full.

My family is dispersed across this great nation for the holiday, so I crashed in on the Lee cousins for some pie in the late afternoon. Aunt Olla was there and was in fine form.

Olla claims that she hasn't been the same since she fell and hit her head in August, but I see no evidence of that and I refuse to let her use that as an excuse for her supposed memory loss.

We were talking about her struggles this spring when we thought she wasn't going to make it, and she said, "you know, other people when they are dying have all the relatives gather round and wait, and as I recall," she said, looking at me with mock indignance, "you stayed for a little bit and then just left!"

Guilty as charged. It was May, the nursery season was in full swing, and, on top of it, by the time I left, Olla had stabilized.

So, there was much joking in that vein. Olla loves to hold court, and she still commands the room, even one full of small children running amok.

CORRECTION: Faithful weblog reader Jack writes from California that I got the dates for Arlo Brunsberg's major league career wrong. His three major league at-bats occurred in 1966, not 1968. Jack's memory is pretty infallible, so I am not even going to check the dates--I am sure he is right! But he points out that Arlo has an excellent .333 career batting average. He doubled off of Catfish Hunter.