For an alternate viewpoint, see “Counterpoint: I Discovered the Meaning of Thanksgiving in a Paris Apartment.”

For most kids, Grandma and Grandpa’s house is their favorite place to visit. Filled with toys and endless affection, treats and hugs. For ordinary people, Thanksgiving is a particularly special time to spend with family.

That wasn’t my childhood. Don’t worry — this isn’t a sob story.

My grandparents were an intense breed of Irish Catholics. With the alcohol flowing on holidays, there was much fighting. And more fighting.

A few years ago, I went to a Chinese restaurant with my in-laws on Thanksgiving, and a fistfight broke out among the servers. My in-laws were aghast. They were so ashamed of exposing my kids to this strife.

It was, weirdly, a little nice. It felt like a rea

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