Yesterday's expedition for this year's Christmas book was exceptionally successful. We returned with two choice reads, Donald Hall's Christmas at Eagle Pond, a nod to my New England origins, and Richard Paul Evans classic The Christmas Box. This Thanksgiving week, as I've been pondering what I'm grateful for, it slowly occurred to me that I'm most grateful for connections to people, places and values I care about. The photo above was taken just down a gravel road that runs in front of my house. Its beauty helps me connect to the place I live, My Minnesota. I'm thankful that those I care most about weren't washed out by Sandy. I don't know of any way to collect on insurance against the loss of memories connected to where you grew up or raised a family or took family vacations or worked for years and years. You can move on and rebuild, but the connections to your history, your memories, are broken and lost. This Thanksgiving, I'm most thankful for my memories and my dreams and living in My Minnesota with those who share them.