It’s been a couple of years since I’ve gone to the annual Tatum Thanksgiving family reunion. We have traditionally gathered at my aunt’s house in Bamberg the Saturday after Thanksgiving to catch up, re-tell hoary but hilarious tales of years past, engage in a little ancestor worship and, of course, gorge shamelessly on a meal guaranteed to shut down the collective circulatory system of a medium sized elephant herd. In recent times, we have started gathering at the Methodist Church in Bamberg to save my aunt the hostess pains and the extra work to get her house in order to receive a horde of gluttonous relatives.