Food and music are two of the few things in the world that are universal. Sure some people don’t like peanut butter and some people don’t like polka. There is no person in the world who does not like music or does not like food. Both can evoke more than what they are. When you hear a favorite song, you think of that road trip you took when you were twenty one. When you eat tomato soup and grilled cheese you remember the snowy days you spent sledding when you were eight. Levon Helm, drummer for The Band, died last week. When I heard the news my thoughts inevitably turned to old family Thanksgivings. I think for most people, Thanksgiving is filled with WASPy simmering and unspoken frustrations, touch football and trying desperately to come up with something for which you are thankful before it is your turn to speak up before you can dig into your stuffing. Like most festivities in my house, Thanksgiving was barely civilized. I am the middle daughter of six intense and active children of two very passionate hippie parents. The one constant we had in holiday was The Last Waltz played on loop. Martin Scorsese filmed the last concert The Band performed on Thanksgiving in San Francisco. The Band wished everyone a happy Thanksgiving before performing for the last time with some of the eras most brilliant musicians, everyone from Bob Dylan to The Staple Singers. Even last Thanksgiving, which I spent in Paris, did not pass without me playing “The Weight” half a dozen times in my Saint Germaine hotel room. I didn’t need the turkey, but I did need The Band and the happy memories it evoked. Musicians and the culinary laborer have always shared a...

Frankie says… There is no relationship I can think of as complex as a sibling’s. There can be intense hate between two siblings in one moment, and three hours later there’s joking and laughter. But wait another hour and someone will have made a snarky comment and we’re back to intense hate. Christmas always brings these thoughts to the forefront for me, since I get to see all of my siblings during the holidays – there are six of us, including me. Three of us are here in Los Angeles and the other three are back in Massachusetts. This particular holiday season I got to see my little sister who at 24 is 3 ½ years my younger. She and I have the most contentious relationship out of all my other siblings. And I have two theories about this: A) we’re the closest in age compared to the rest of my siblings, or B) we’re polar opposites… plus side and minus side…yin and yang. You catch my drift… However, I’m proud to say that the week spent with her there was barely any fighting – certainly no raised voices or tears like there usually is. Some heated conversations and debates, but that was it. It seemed that anytime we began to raise our voices, one of us would stop and reassess what we were arguing about and simply stop. We’d just shut up. And there’d be a few minutes of silence and then on to chatting about a completely different topic. It fascinates me that my siblings are the ones I can tell anything to and nothing to. It’s so easy to spill your guts and relate your darkest fears or stupidest stories, but at the same time keeping little details from them because...