They Will Be Mourned

One year ago today, about thirty family members and friends were gathered at the Emory House for our post-Thanksgiving celebration. My sister, her husband, and several cousins had traveled from as far away as California....we even had a guest from overseas. It had been a long time since we had been reunited, and I think we all felt the specialness of the occasion. We joked that it might be the last time we'd be together in those numbers.

It's been a hard year for the family.In the spring, my godchild April's friend, who had graciously driven her up from Annapolis so that she could be with us, was murdered. Geri's partner, Paul, died of a heart attack. This fall, cousin Michael died in his sleep, and Stanley's wife, Dana, was killed in a car crash. They will be mourned.

Old Girls

Today was Crucial Xgiving, the Emory House's answer to Thanksgiving. A bit subdued compared to last year's blowout, but still beautiful. We had the whole traditional feast, minus the turkey of course: mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, sweet potatoes, squashes, cranberry sauce, plus several family favorite dishes. Then of course pies--I always bake a pumpkin, an apple, and a two-crust lemon pie. The house looked and smelled wonderful; the conversation was good; the food delicious by all reports.

Ali built a beautiful fire in the library, but I couldn't get anyone in front of it for the longest time. In daylight, guests are always drawn to the kitchen, with the sunlight streaming in through the stained glass windows. Dinner was in the formal dining room, of course. Afterward, everyone lingered around the table for coffee and pie and Sambuca and wouldn't budge.

Some of my guests had other stops to make, and by evening it was just a few friends. One of the nice things about having a big house is the ability to shut the doors on dirty dishes and move to a clean room. By the time my cooking and serving chores were over, I could relax in front of the still-bright fire with what was left of my company.

Eventually it was just me and three high school friends--plus one patient husband--all together for the first time in many years. The conversation turned at a point, of course, to our children. Sandy has four; I have three; Lorna has two, and Alma has one.

Each of us has one daughter, prettier and more accomplished than we were at the same age. Lila is a professor of religious studies, Emily is a landscape architect, Rebecca is a dancer. Cordelia is going back to school for yet another degree, on her way to becoming an industrial designer. Best of all, they're real sweethearts, kind-hearted, gracious, and polite. Who would have thought, in the crazy sixties, that we'd leave such a beautiful legacy?

Espresso Guy

Today is Thanksgiving. It may be turkey day in most households, but not here. Since I'm a vegetarian, I don't even bother to invite people over on this holiday. I had several invitations to go out, but politely declined all of them. Last week I was involved in a car accident, and Monday and Tuesday were extremely long days on the set of The Box. I was leaving the house at 4 a.m. to get to the Boston area, standing around in the cold for hours on end, and not getting home till late at night. The pleasantest holiday I could conjure up was resting up for Saturday, which is our Crucial Xgiving feast.

Tuesday was particularly cold, and it even snowed a bit. What looked like ashes swirling down from the sky soon turned to rain. The film crew rushed around, erecting canopies and zippered tents over all the equipment, but kept on shooting. After a while, I couldn't feel my feet.

Most of the extras on Tuesday were vintage car owners like me, hired strictly to drive their cars. I was the only one who'd ever been on a set before. The others didn't really know the drill. I overheard one man asking politely if he could go buy himself a sandwich somewhere, not realizing that there's more free and fancy food on a movie set than on a cruise liner.

Early in the morning, the narrow streets surrounding Milton Academy were completely taken over by trucks and equipment. Booms, cranes, eighteen-wheelers, vans, and budget rental trucks clogged the lanes. The parade of vintage automobiles was bottlenecked for a while, vying for passage with the vehicles transporting all the movie gear. Exhaust from the V-8 engines filled the air as drivers idled their engines, trying to keep warm. I was stopped right alongside a guy setting up an espresso machine in between two big rigs. Man, did it look inviting.

The driver in front of me must have been thinking the same thing. He hopped out of his car and engaged the espresso guy in conversation. Yeah, it's freezing, agreed Espresso Guy. I'm from California....this is really bad. I'm here for Cameron. Cameron flies me with her wherever she films, just to make the espresso. Can you have a coffee? Sure! How about a cappuccino? That's a coffee with hot milk....

That was it. If he could score a coffee, I could score a coffee. I gave a queenly wave, got a high sign in return, and before long was being served a lovely, hot cappuccino. Thanks, Cameron, for sharing.