How about more with Steve's long lost cousin? Do we get to see him actually go to Thanksgiving dinner at Joe's house?
Steve wasn’t sure what to expect. Joe was quiet and calm. Like you when you’re not raising hell. Sam had said after he first met Joe. But he didn’t know his wife and children or other relatives.
“I’m prepping them.” Joe said. “Don’t worr–oh, oh -aww.” Joe was more of a Yankees fan, but they watched the Giants together when they could. Even when Steve was overseas.
“That should’ve been a flag.” Steve agreed. He’d found a bar that was playing the game. He had one more day before he was due back in New York and he figured he’d spend it enjoying himself.
“Yeah. -And before you ask, just bring yourself. I’ll see you next week?”
“Yeah, I’m back tomorrow.”
“Enjoy the rest of your super hush-hush trip.”
So here he was, standing just inside the door of Joe’s home with about a dozen relatives staring at him and trying not to.
It was a little blue-eyed, curly-haired girl (Joe’s youngest, he thought) that broke the tension, doubt curving her tiny mouth: “You gotta lot less wrinkles ‘n I thought.”
After that, it was a rush of introductions and laughter (and food, they had an incredible spread). Later on, with Joe’s youngest (Sarah, he was delighted to discover) dozing in his lap, they looked through photo albums, catching him up on the family he’d missed.
Cecelia, Joe’s wife, held up her phone. “And all the photos I took today I’m going to add in, too, you know. You need to be in these albums too, Steve.”
Steve smiled, and felt full in a way that didn’t have anything to do with the five servings he’d had.
Marlene Dietrich at the studios of Columbia Records, November 1952. The record label was releasing some of the songs she had performed for the troops during WW2. She was 51 and starting a comeback into show business, and recording could only begin at midnight on the advise of Marlene’s astrologer. Photo by Eve Arnold.