Dad and I discuss how, for some families, Thanksgiving is fraught with anxiety and dread. We choose sides about wholeheartedly trusting historic sources vs. questioning them. And we discuss—in uncontrollable belly-laughter—Thanksgivings of old. Oh, and my dad uses the “f-word” in hilarious fashion. This conversation is like Thanksgiving itself; a corneacopia of different flavors that leave me satisfyingly full.