Hepcat always says that one of the reasons he married me is because of my family. And that’s  everybody: mother, father, sister, stepmother, aunts, uncles, cousins…you get the idea.

He said it again last night as we were driving home in the Subaru after my family’s large restaurant Thanksgiving on East 22nd Street. This time he said it to Teen Spirit and OSFO in the back seat.

"As I always say, I liked her family. And I liked her, too," he mused.

I should hope so was my reply.

But it pleases me that Hepcat feels this way about my large, interesting family because he lives far from his own family and that is difficult.

Especially on holidays when the heart pines for connection with one’s loved ones. Hepcat’s enthusiasm always makes his inclusion in our family events such a joy.

On the ride home, Hepcat recalled some of the conversational high points of the night. Indeed my extended family is a rapturously interesting group and their conversations can cover quite a bit of territory.

Last night was no exception.

The meal began with a toast from my first cousin, who reminded the group that there were two huge losses to our family this year: my uncle and my father. My sister and I were deeply moved by this and tears quickly filled our eyes.

And then the feast commenced. From the first course to the last (popovers and butternut squash soup to pumpkin pie and coffee and lots of turkey, prime rib, stuffing, mashed potatoes, risotto, brussels sprouts, carrots and green beans in between) conversation swirled around each of four tables like a content-filled tornado.

In between courses, family members circulated bringing with them news and views from their table of origin and great curiosity  ("what’s going on over here?").

I can only account for the conversation at my table but it looked like loud and lively table conversation was the rule. Here are just some of the topics touched upon:

Obama’s foreign policy. The remarkable skinniness of Teen Spirit’s jeans. Post-college aspirations and living in Beijing. Turquoise hair. Election night in Providence, Rhode Island. A novel about the Thai/Cambodian border. The Turkey Trot in Prospect Park. Johns Hopkins Medical Center. Kansas City jazz. The delightful theatricality of one red-headed four-year-old. Skinny ties. Mashed potatoes. Empty nests. Working as a social worker in the  South Bronx. Synecdoce, New York. Educational policy in Baltimore. Skinny ties. "The Jewish Century" by Yuri Slezkine and The Pity of it All" by Amos Elon. Memories of 131 Riverside Drive, the building I grew up in, "Rock and Roll" by Guy Ritchie. Google…

And yes there was food and wine and plenty of it. But it was the alternating and non-stop conversations that were the most nourishing (and filling) of all and the reason that Thanksgiving is such a joy with this group.

Something to be thankful for.