Thanksgiving wasn’t meant to be a time when we mourned the victims of mass shootings, and it wasn’t supposed to relieve us from a state of terminal anxiety brought on by rage tweets and antisemitic mumblings from Palm Beach. At best, it was a mild pain in the ass; at worst, a wrinkle in the family firmament that would take a year to recover from before you had to grit your teeth and do it all over again.
one of your best. Reminds me of shivering while listening to a still unknown Joan Baez in an heatless cafe in Harvard Square in the 60s-the sort of thing that, like your Thanksgivings, you never, ever forget
Remember those days but had forgotten about Maurice - enjoy your Village stories. I lived in a fifth floor walkup on at the end of Christopher overlooking the Theatre DeLys and occasionally wandered into the Lions Head, especially when the Clancy Brothers were in town. Wonderful memories.
I was thinking about the late sixties in San Francisco and Berkeley, where I was. Just a kid, 16 or 17. On KMPX, the original underground FM station, the DJ would say (at Thanksgiving or Christmas), "Okay, someone called from the Haight with room for two people at the table. Bring some wine or a joint or dessert." And I guess people would call the station for the address or phone number. There would be all kinds of on-air invitations like that.
Lucian, love your personal stories like this one. In a few words they vividly evoke a time, place and atmosphere long gone, but plainly not forgotten. A fascinating look back at interesting people and events. Very impressed and appreciative of your detailed recollections. Happy Thanksgiving!
I love this story - it’s so evocative of a time in life (and in NYC) that deserves memorializing. You did that so well! Odetta in your loft? AMAZING!!
In reading it, I was reminded of a tradition my partner and I started in 1995– the “bring your used food” Saturday night post-Thanksgiving dinner. I had bought a 22 pound turkey: it was the last one in the market when I went shopping. I didn’t know one could (and should) order a turkey in advance. My family of five very light eaters left more turkey then many people start out with. My partner and I got on our landlines Friday morning to invite everyone we could think of to our apartment. We left messages on answering machines and said “Don’t call back. Come if you can.” Twenty-eight people showed up with leftovers or newly cooked / bought food and a tradition began, one we kept up for many years until we carpeted the living /dining room. I miss it still, all these years later.
Thank you, Lucian, for your memories and for prompting mine.
Thank you for sharing your life with your readers. These are wonderful stories for us within your age group. I knew all these performers but not personally. Happy days.
The thing I like the most about these stories is the recollection of those times. There was a certain innocence and freedom that we just don’t seem to have these days. So many of the people that I spent those days with have turned away from that spirit and have jumped to the other side. Sadly, I had to leave them behind with a strong sense of disappointment. Thanks for keeping the spark alive for those of us who stayed true to the spirit of those times.
As usual, this is a beautiful memoir; I'd love to see a collection of these stories, and wish I had such clear memories of my similar experiences in 70s San Francisco.
Thanks Lucian and happy Thanksgiving! Love your writing all the time. Sometimes, though, I wish your pieces were longer. This is one them. On a cool, rainy Arkansas weekend, this gave a lot of warmth! Thanks, my friend.
My Lost, Left Behind, No Place Else to Go Thanksgivings in New York
Glorious story, told superbly. You should do this for a living.
Best.
one of your best. Reminds me of shivering while listening to a still unknown Joan Baez in an heatless cafe in Harvard Square in the 60s-the sort of thing that, like your Thanksgivings, you never, ever forget
Remember those days but had forgotten about Maurice - enjoy your Village stories. I lived in a fifth floor walkup on at the end of Christopher overlooking the Theatre DeLys and occasionally wandered into the Lions Head, especially when the Clancy Brothers were in town. Wonderful memories.
A lovely story from another world.
I was thinking about the late sixties in San Francisco and Berkeley, where I was. Just a kid, 16 or 17. On KMPX, the original underground FM station, the DJ would say (at Thanksgiving or Christmas), "Okay, someone called from the Haight with room for two people at the table. Bring some wine or a joint or dessert." And I guess people would call the station for the address or phone number. There would be all kinds of on-air invitations like that.
Can you imagine that today?
I love your political columns, but your personal reminiscences are something special. Hope you had a great Thanksgiving.
Have you written a memoir, Lucian, I am sure it would be a treat to read and savor?!
Yes, and it's probably a mistake to doubt eccentrics like Maurice, but sometimes their anecdotes seem impossible.
Beautiful story. I feel like I'm right there!
Lucian, love your personal stories like this one. In a few words they vividly evoke a time, place and atmosphere long gone, but plainly not forgotten. A fascinating look back at interesting people and events. Very impressed and appreciative of your detailed recollections. Happy Thanksgiving!
I love this story - it’s so evocative of a time in life (and in NYC) that deserves memorializing. You did that so well! Odetta in your loft? AMAZING!!
In reading it, I was reminded of a tradition my partner and I started in 1995– the “bring your used food” Saturday night post-Thanksgiving dinner. I had bought a 22 pound turkey: it was the last one in the market when I went shopping. I didn’t know one could (and should) order a turkey in advance. My family of five very light eaters left more turkey then many people start out with. My partner and I got on our landlines Friday morning to invite everyone we could think of to our apartment. We left messages on answering machines and said “Don’t call back. Come if you can.” Twenty-eight people showed up with leftovers or newly cooked / bought food and a tradition began, one we kept up for many years until we carpeted the living /dining room. I miss it still, all these years later.
Thank you, Lucian, for your memories and for prompting mine.
Thank you so very much. If I closed my eyes, I was there! Someone mentioned that you should do this for a living! Am so glad you do!
Thank you for sharing your life with your readers. These are wonderful stories for us within your age group. I knew all these performers but not personally. Happy days.
Thank you for a story of a time when we begrudged the Thanksgiving tradition.
Now we're glad we survived another year to another one.
The thing I like the most about these stories is the recollection of those times. There was a certain innocence and freedom that we just don’t seem to have these days. So many of the people that I spent those days with have turned away from that spirit and have jumped to the other side. Sadly, I had to leave them behind with a strong sense of disappointment. Thanks for keeping the spark alive for those of us who stayed true to the spirit of those times.
As usual, this is a beautiful memoir; I'd love to see a collection of these stories, and wish I had such clear memories of my similar experiences in 70s San Francisco.
Thanks Lucian and happy Thanksgiving! Love your writing all the time. Sometimes, though, I wish your pieces were longer. This is one them. On a cool, rainy Arkansas weekend, this gave a lot of warmth! Thanks, my friend.