I’ve had an unusually busy schedule of performances in the past couple of months. I’ve been looking forward to a bit of “down time” at home with family and friends at Thanksgiving.

For some reason, Thanksgiving seems to have gradually drifted into first place on my list of favorite holidays. I’m not sure when that happened or what it’s about. Maybe it’s simply because there isn’t any particular religious or patriotic theme involved with Thanksgiving. Themes of that sort — piety, devotion to duty, and so on — tend to come pre-packaged with a bunch of vague expectations. I’m extremely leery of expectations in general, especially when they’re vague. As far as I’m concerned, expectations are often the nasty little seeds which bloom into disappointments which unless aggressively cut back can mature into resentments the size of Cleveland. What kind of “holiday” is that?

Besides, at Thanksgiving there’s simply no pressure to participate in competitive gift-giving. I count that as a big plus as the “sluggish” economy slouches toward another long, cold Maine winter.

The most challenging part of this otherwise warm and snuggly holiday is the influx of otherwise distant relatives. So what? They’re mostly harmless and provide the raw material good for a new batch of zany family stories after they’ve headed back home. They will go home eventually, won’t they? Won’t They?! Besides, as long as you know it isn’t a full-time gig, it’s kind of fun to play the at-home version of “Meet the Grizwalds” for a day or two. And let’s keep in mind that complaining about your weird relatives is a universal family bonding experience.

Speaking of weird relative stories, I recently found myself laughing out loud alone in my car (perhaps guilty of ‘distracted driving?) listening in as Terry Gross interviewed Maurice Sendak, legendary children’s book author/illustrator, describing his inspiration for the outrageous facial features, bulging eyes, gapping maws, snaggly teeth, etc., which helped make the “Wild Things” in his 1963 classic Where the Wild Things Are, so wonderfully, unforgettably wild. The octogenarian artist confessed that he’d originally conceived and sketched these amazing creatures while recalling images of his own relatives gathered around the family holiday tables of his youth. “You know,” he said in a fabulous old-time vaudeville New York City accent, “your uncle with the big nose? Your cousin with all the bad teeth?”

We know, Mr. Sendak. Alas, we know them all too well.

The fact that my family is of the “blended’ variety these days really spices up the occasion. We have all the usual suspects: in-laws, outlaws, artists, scholars, adult children from previous marriages, etc., plus a lively and diverse contingent of friends we’ve picked up along the way. How can you fail to take home a few great stories when the celebrants include a sweet, elfin, against-impossible-odds brain surgery survivor whose utter domination of the Scrabble board is enough to make grown men weep.

Then there’s my 6’8” stepson Ben, whose many talents and virtues (he’s handsome, charming, a brilliant scholar, a truly gifted and disciplined musician) are completely overshadowed (pun intended) by his commanding height. Who can blame him for being “short” with folks who ask for the umpteenth time whether he plays basketball? Fortunately, he also has a great sense of humor and when asked the same dumb question that many times you can come generally up with a pretty good one-liner. Nowadays, when asked whether he plays basketball, Ben just says “No. Do you play miniature golf?” According to my wife, “That’s a show stopper.”

Just so he doesn’t get bored I offered him this one I heard recently.

Q: “Play basketball?”

A: “ Nope, but I used to be a jockey until the big horse died.”

My friend Phil and his charming wife, Nikki, joined us for Thanksgiving again this year. Phil has a batch of snappy lines, as well as the ability to mint fresh ones on pretty short notice. He’s a great example of that marvelous brand of self-effacing humor, which is such a powerful tool in overcoming adversity.

Phil is almost totally paralyzed as a result of an automobile accident a few years back. He gets around amazingly well in his power wheelchair and does a darned good job of not taking himself too seriously. Once, when he was several days late in responding to an e-mail of mine, he apologized thusly: “ I have no good excuse. I’ve just been dragging my feet I guess. Which, when you think about it, isn’t that easy to do when you’re a quad.” Great stuff.

As he was leaving our home, Phil powered his electric wheelchair down to one end of the long front porch in order to turn around and approach the handicap ramp at the proper angle. Another departing guest, a lovely young woman, apparently didn’t notice Phil as she dashed out the door hurrying to catch up with her husband. A mild collision ensued and the young lady almost ended up on Phil’s lap. Clearly flustered, she a stammered an apology, and without missing a beat Phil announced, “ You see how it is? You see these women? They’re all over me. It must be the wheelchair. They just can’t seem to keep their hands off me.”

There were plenty more moments like that and just like hot, open-faced turkey sandwiches with gravy and cranberry jelly, they’re even better the next day. Let’s do it again next year, wanna?

Humorist Tim Sample is as legendary in Maine as black flies. See a selection of his books and tapes by clicking here.

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