Will we remember 2015 as the year of holiday crises? The day before Thanksgiving, mere hours before the family was due to arrive, a possum died in the crawl space under my kitchen permeating it with an odor like, well, a dead possum. But for Christmas, we were going to L.A. where in the rarest but happiest of occasions, we would have both sons, their wives, and all five grandtots under the same roof. Life doesn’t get any better than that.