BY MARGIE RUBIN

My childhood memories of Thanksgiving Day growing up in New York include loud family gatherings, ridiculous amounts of food, and a brisk walk after dinner.  Since I moved to California, 40 years ago, two big differences are that Thanksgiving feasts consist of more friends than family, and the weather is closer to a New York summer day than the wintry cold of the Northeast.

Last weekend, six of us got to spend time with our dear friends at their beautiful beach house in Monterey. We took long walks along the beach, had breakfast at a Russian mom-and-pop restaurant on the water, made homemade ceviche from the day’s fish catch, and had lots of laughs. But I must say, the highlight was our group bike ride along the Pacific coast. In shorts and tee shirts. Really? Late November, and shorts and tee shirts?

Which is why I choose to live in California. While it can’t compare culturally to New York City and its food – the Bay Area cannot compete with New York bagels, pizza, and pastrami – the truth is, I can see a Broadway play when it’s in San Francisco at a cheaper price. I don’t eat meat, so I don’t miss deli food, and I love the fact that I can be outdoors all year round. That being said, I love New York, and I feel fortunate to have a foot in each world. Now if I could only get my New York family to put a foot out here!