I can’t seem to get together a coherent blog post, which could be due to the holidays and that fact that I’m cooking for a small army of friends, but also because I’m on the last stretch of my rough rougher roughest draft of novel #3 (which one I’ll go back to polishing after the holidays still tbd).
So, Thanksgiving is coming and it is by far my favorite holiday. I have my little paper that lists every single name from mine on back that ties me to William Brewster, the elder of the pilgrims and the ancestor I am most proud of (besides the horse thief I have a pencil-drawn portrait of). Elder Brewster was a brave man, a dissenter, a seeker of what is right. He also had a clandestine printing press which got him thrown into jail. He and his wife Mary named their kids with really cool names, like Love and Fear and, lest us not forget, Patience. Oh, and being related to him means I am also related to… Katharine Hepburn, Richard Gere, Julia Child and …Sarah Palin. Rewind. Must be an error there.
I jest, but truly as the granddaughter of a museum genealogist (whose research was extensive and far more complicated then than it is now via ancestor.com, etc.) who once pulled a large leather tome from the museum’s library shelves and showed me my name (or did I dream that?), it does warm my heart to think of dear Elder Brewster and the pilgrim’s plight. I often wonder what he would have thought, this Christian preacher, to see me now, and how he would enhance the conversation at my Thanksgiving table which will contain not only the traditional foods but also the ethnic delights that my guests are bringing, harira and khobz, sweets and a spattering of languages, the majority of those at my table immigrants.
For me, it’s what Thanksgiving is all about. And I am giving thanks this year for so much. For family and friends, health and home and a world that still makes me fall in love daily with it.
Happy Thanksgiving one and all!