In 1947 my Dad, who was then 15, and some of his friends started a touch-football game, played every year in Noe Valley in San Francisco. Tomorrow we will play the 61st version of the game. My Dad and a few of the others are no longer with us, but the A-Bowl goes on. Our team is the Three-As, and the other team is the Red-As (with As standing for part of the anatomy -- I guess back in the day you wouldn't actually say that word.) My son was the first of the third generation, and next year for the first time we will have a fourth generation, though he probably won't be available to play for a few years.
Matter of fact, this is my last Thanksgiving as a non-grandpa. My grandson, Christopher Daniel King is due to arrive in early January.
Hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving.
Cheers,
Dan King
If you're a Thanksgiving dinner, but you don't like the stuffing or the cranberry sauce or anything else, just pretend like you're eating it, but instead, put it all in your lap and form it into a big mushy ball. Then, later, when you're out back having cigars with the boys, let out a big fake cough and throw the ball to the ground. Then say, "Boy, these are good cigars!"
--Jack Handy