I’ve enjoyed all your comments, your opinions, the battles, and just that you took the time out to respond to my posts and be part of this community that I’ve built.
It’s Thanksgiving. It’s never been my favorite holiday in the world.

When I was a kid we always used to go to my grandmother’s house in New York City. I had, as most kids had, two sets of grandmothers. My Grandma Rose was my favorite. She was amazing. She was fun, and she was very accepting of who I am. The only thing she didn’t like about me was that I decided not to get Bar Mitzvah’d.

I’ve never been much of a religious person, so I just decided at that religion was just not a big part of my life at a very young age.
My other grandmother, Grandma Frankie, taught me a lot. She taught me about architecture, about art, museums, all sorts of culture. She was the grandmother who lived in New York City. Every year we had to go to her house for Thanksgiving, and her house was always overheated. It was a beautiful duplex in Greenwich Village, but the heat was always pouring in so intensely that it just wasn’t fun to be in the house. My dad would plant himself in the giant living room chair. My mother would sit on the couch. My grandmother would talk at my mom, and my grandfather, who was basically a living zombie, would sit in his own chair and do absolutely nothing.

My sister, brother, and I would always escape upstairs to the den and watch the football game. My mom would find us and say, “You guys need to spend time with grandpa.”
Spending time grandpa was like watching paint dry. My grandfather never had anything to say. Not only did he not know how to entertain kids, he was just a big-time a social introvert. He married my grandmother when he was in his 50s. It was my grandmother’s second marriage. He was a very successful man, a very successful stock broker, but he never had anything to say to anybody. He was great with numbers, and great with investments, but just awful with people.

So we’d sit there and we’d say “Hello, Grandpa.” And he’d say, “Hello, children.” And we’d stare at him for about 10-15 minutes, talk about how school was going, blah blah, and the conversation would die. We’d sit there and we’d look around. We’d twirl our thumbs and, one by one, we’d run upstairs.
Being the oldest, I always used to run upstairs first, then my sister would follow, and then my brother would trial up last. By the time we came down the steps when dinner was ready, we’d always have this incredibly dry turkey. It was never good.

By then my stomach was churning anyway because I wasn’t having fun. I was kid. I was trapped inside this hot apartment, and then my grandmother would start lecturing us kids about whatever she felt like lecturing us about that year.

Thanksgivings were never fun for me. It was never my favorite holiday. I think whenever you’re forced to do something you don’t want to do as a kid and it ends up a bad experience for you, it tends to scar you for life.

So I’m not a big Thanksgiving person. I’m going to spend my Thanksgiving today with my family and make sure they enjoy the day immensely. I’m going to kick back and eat some great food. I’m going to watch some football. Can’t wait for the Lions-Packers game. I’m just going to relax.

And the most important part: I’m going to reflect at how amazing this year has been. I want to give thanks to everybody that’s been a part of my life, every customer who has purchased my products and learned something new, everybody who’s learned from my blogs has commented on my blog.
I want to give thanks to every single one of you who have attended my boot camps or signed up for private coaching. I want to thank all of you for allowing me into your lives.
Happy Thanksgiving, everybody.