These three kids are the best of friends, but one of them was born 104 years, 10 months, and 11 days before the other two. Believe it or not!

It’s hard for me to think of my Uncle Mike without picturing a pool cue in his hand. Sure, he had a lot more going on, but rarely did I see him light up as when he would explain to his nieces and nephews the physics behind his favorite trick shots. He was a billiards nerd the way I’m a…nerd, except for him it was actually lucrative, keeping his young kids fed and in diapers when money was tight.

Everyone gets older, people pass on, and yearly traditions once taken for granted run their natural course. In my mind, Thanksgiving at Uncle Mike and Aunt Anita’s, in the hills above Napa Valley, has coalesced into a single, timeless memory, like a movie I’ve watched again and again.

The sound of gravel being kicked up as we pull into the long driveway. The boisterous hellos and the giddy anticipation as we hover around the busy kitchen. Plates piled high, the popping of corks, and unrestrained laughter. The beckoning dessert table, and the strategies concocted for trying every type of pie without literally exploding.

And then, finally, people falling into their post-feast rhythm. On the main floor, the true adults settle in for stimulating conversation, while those of us craving more of a show head downstairs to watch Uncle Raymond razz Uncle Mike, as Uncle Mike effortlessly runs the table and looks for his next victim.

No takers? Then it’s time to learn from the master, as he shows us how to win money placing pool hall bets using a knowledge of angles and english, and clever uses of spit.

We try to take it all in. For a moment, becoming a pool shark seems like a real possibility, and we try to think of ways to fit it into our schedule.

And then we snap back to reality, realizing that it’s easier just to live vicariously through the tall, lanky, seemingly unflappable hustler turned entrepreneur turned cool friendly uncle.

And finally, the long goodbyes, the yawns, the hugs among a soundtrack of crickets under a starry country sky, and the sound of gravel under rubber once again. We look back and wave, never thinking it’ll be the last time.

Inevitably, one time, it is. But that’s okay–I know it all by heart.

Oh wait, my baby cousin is almost 33? Wait a minute, that makes me…(minus 7…carry the one…) elderly.

In that case, congratulations are in order to Emily, Bryce, and my first cousin once removed, Jetty!

Side note: it’s never been more appropriate to point out that I drew this in an iPad drawing app called Procreate!

I’m greatly enjoying the epic podcast The Secret History of Hollywood. Actually, it’s less of a podcast and more of an audiobook. You should check it out. I’m just starting part three of the latest series, “Bullets and Blood.” In parts one and two, Cagney emerges as one of the few people in Hollywood with two feet on the ground and a good heart. Some of the best anecdotes in the podcast are of his tussles with the mercenary head of the Warner Brothers Studio, Jack L. Warner, who was vexed by a rare star who needed the studio less than the studio needed him.

If some crazy dark side of his personality emerges in part three, please don’t spoil it for me!