All the surviving members of my family are Trumpy and we got together for Thanksgiving.

Not one word of a political nature was spoken. Zero, unless you count me explaining the difference between the Russian pronunciation of Kiev versus the Ukrainian. Had a good meal, nobody approached the “third rail”. It’s been that way the last couple years. I think we’ve all accepted nobody’s changing anyone’s mind.

None of the surviving members of my family showed up. Just me and Mom, looking at each other across the table, everything that could possibly be talked about being exhausted over the last 40 years.

But we didn’t talk about Forrest Trump, either.

Whilst nobody in my family, except perhaps my brother, cares for trump, we all collectively decided a couple decades ago that divisive topics were verboten at holiday gatherings

Who wins best in show or should win best in show on Thanksgiving for the dog show is about as divisive as its allowed to get before Big Mama Vader the family matriarch uses her Voice of Doom and Power to warn us off that path.

My family’s get together was today. No politics, no drama. At this point I’m far more concerned about my brother-in-law’s and nephew’s health than I am about their political leanings.

I visited some friends for the first time. It wasn’t until after dinner that the talk drifted toward politics. Then I drifted toward the kitchen and stayed there.

No living members of your family showed up. But your mom was there, and you sat across the table looking at each other…

Thanksgiving at the Bates motel?

I’m curious as to how Kiev came up in conversation.

Were you eating chicken kiev?

It was a discussion about a friend of a friend who referred to an Asian kid as oriental and how some people present cringed a little. The person telling the story chalked it up to political correctness. I mentioned that their are sometimes undercurrents of history that make some labels more politically charged than may be apparent. I used the example of the different pronunciations of Kiev.