Wow, is it really here already? Seems like life has lurched forward since my September missive.

Journey Between Two Worlds now has an official presence on Instagram, and there are various events in the works for promotion. One might say that marketing is in the marinating stage.

Lest I jinx any of it, I will report back with results to date in my ensuing holiday newsletter. Meanwhile, I will verify that networking and reaching out to form bridges and establish connections takes time but can be quite satisfying in itself. Though it is clear that books do not sell themselves, in many ways I see book sales as a byproduct of developing relationships. Ultimately it is people, the readers, who I hope will be inspired in some way by my mother Karola’s courage and spirit, as manifested in her memoir.

For those who read, or have already read, Journey Between Two Worlds, you would function as vital ambassadors to the promotional process if you could please submit a reader review to whichever source sent your book order: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or other. If you are on Instagram, please follow @journey.between.two.worlds. This truly goes a long way toward spreading the word and stimulating readership. Your participation in this endeavor could not demonstrate a finer support of my mother’s legacy and my efforts to sustain it. For that I extend my deepest gratitude to each of you.

Autumn! ‘Tis the season of pumpkins and foliage, clocks turned back, a chill in the air, and holidays in our hearts. Hovering between trick-or-treat and yuletide, Thanksgiving beckons with a measured restraint of consumer seduction. As a time of harvest, it encourages assessment and reflection, particularly these days, along with appreciation for what we have, and have had. At the top of the list are those we love and care about. This past period of isolation and loss has magnified the value of cherished loved ones and highlighted the essential need for human contact and sociability. Though I’ve always treasured Thanksgiving as a non-commercial holiday, I feel the poignance of its purpose now more than ever.

In the spirit of seasonal togetherness, I’d love to hear from you regarding what comes to mind during this festive time. It could be a memory, a food, a wish, suggestion or comment, anything. Sharing your thoughts would be a fun way to foster interaction and our communal connection. For me, memories and food take a front seat. A classic Thanksgiving during my grad school days in Los Angeles consisted of gathering together my “orphan” friends, those who couldn’t visit with their families. In my one-bedroom apartment I would unhinge a superfluous door, set it on cinderblocks as a table in front of the couch, spread pillows around the other three sides, and rest a pillar candle on the indented door handle, as partial decor. Then I’d cook up a storm of traditional turkey and all the trimmings, giving special attention to the sacred stuffing and hallowed gravy, bedecking majestic mounds of mashed potatoes. Such an alimentary orgy of satisfaction as guests lounged languidly on their pillows in tryptophan stupor! Right after one of these annual occasions, one friend proceeded directly to the hospital to give birth to her son. Since then, we always blamed the natal urgency on the stuffing. Thank you for joining in here with your own contribution!

Commenting on her novel culinary venture, Karola noted in her memoir, “I had no inkling one could actually eat turkey or that they were raised for human consumption.” In her awe of the Thanksgiving bounty and its presentation, she exclaimed, “I can only describe this fairytale event as opulent after coming out of years of what one could only describe as subhuman existence.” To her, the aromas alone were overwhelming, certainly in their unfamiliarity, but more notable was that cuisine of any kind even existed during these dire times to produce them. Here was a contrast of feast or famine. In savoring the menu before her, some items she had never seen before, she wondered, “How was my stomach going to handle it?” In her characteristic approach she knew the answer. “Though I did not want to miss any course offered, I had enough sense not to overeat.”

My mother’s memory of her first Thanksgiving overseas with the love of her life, her new husband, resonates deeply with me. She was about to enter another world and a free life, something she had not known before. In counting my blessings, I think of her and both of my parents, who profoundly understood what the important things in life were. They passed that lesson on not merely in words but through the way they lived their lives. Though their funds were lacking, their vision was not.

As we prepare to gather with loved ones around a homey hearth, if only in our minds, or pine for familiar, favorite foods as our foundation of love, we may be reminded that nostalgia isn’t what it used to be. We do the best we can in the here and now, as we fondly remember some of what was.

So let’s be kind to one another, maintain a sense of humor, and not fret if the gravy is lumpy.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

Cheers, Margaret