The scent of butter emanated from my hands as I drove Abbott to school this morning. I made pie crusts before I scrambled eggs and toasted cornbread for our breakfast; later today Cal, who doesn’t have school this week, will help me make pies. Yesterday we made cranberry chutney, and the cornbread we'll use in our stuffing.
My family moved from Texas to Alaska the year I started school. That Thanksgiving, in addition to the craft my school-aged maturity allowed for – tracing a hand on construction paper and then fashioning the shape into a male turkey flourishing his tail feathers – my Alaskan classmates and I shared a simulation of the first Thanksgiving. I think I even wore some semblance of a pilgrim costume to school for the occasion, though Native American attire would have been just as historically accurate for me, given the few odd Cherokee relatives on my dad’s side. I ate salmon for the first time that day, but I thought it was deer. Who knows what I thought the deer on my plate was. After school I told my mother, “You'll never believe what I ate at school today. Did you know deer meat is light pink?”
Best wishes to you and yours. xoxo