I remember it well. The sandwich that came after. Legendary it was and anticipated from the moment the turkey went into the oven. Between two layers of good bread, defined as white bread that came from a plastic bag, was a thick substrate of essential components, smothered in rich ventricle clogging gravy. A sandwich so messy there was no option but to eat it with a knife and fork immediately followed by a generously cut wedge of pumpkin pie - which had also served as the morning's breakfast. I remember this sandwich almost more than the day itself, the ritual of it, the comfort of its predictability and the cautionary tale of "take all you want but eat all you take," this my family's version of waste not, want not.