OPINION — It’s a few minutes until Thanksgiving. I thought I’d stay up and watch the clock change. I’m sipping tea, listening to gentle music playing in the background. I think it’s Bing Crosby, or maybe Nat King Cole. The volume is too low to tell. Either way, it sounds like 1948 in this living room. Yesterday, my wife made a batch of cornbread and biscuits. She left them on top the refrigerator so they’d get good and dry before she crumbled them them into cornbread dressing. There is a big debate between calling it “dressing” or “stuffing.” And while I am no authority on the matter, I can tell you this: Once, I spent Thanksgiving at a buddy’s house, his mother was from West Virginia, and she served “stuffing.” She cooked the entire feast without ever dropping the Winston cigarette that d

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