As a child in Barrington, R.I., in 1964 and every other year of the early 1960s, I thought of Thanksgiving as a day to get through. The roast turkey, mashed rutabagas and potatoes, green bean casserole, and pumpkin and mincemeat pies were delicious, and I had fun with my cousins from out of town, but the excitement of the day lay not so much in the company or the food as it did in the fact that when it was
