Like a lot of kids, I’m sure, I thought the best time of year was absolutely Halloween to New Years, a view has accompanied me into adulthood. I couldn’t get enough of the turning leaves, spooky ghosts, spiderwebs, pumpkins, cornucopias, turkeys, Christmas trees, lights, carols, snow. I was obsessed with snow, but in the south, where I grew up, it rarely came. A flurry or two was usually all we got. But, I’ll save the Christmas tales for later, as it is still Autumn.
Halloweens at my house begun at the beginning of October, with my mother and I going to the fabric store to look at patterns and figure out what I wanted to be. I tried to alternate between scary and pretty each year and Mom always constructed beautiful costumes for me. She made me a Snow White, A witch, a fairy princess. The only store bought costume I ever remembered having was a skeleton. One of those body suits. My brother’s costumes were not usually made, as he wanted to be a ninja turtle, or a cowboy, or a ninja. The witch was the costume that turned out to be handiest and used more than once for several different purposes. My mother had sewed a jack-o-lantern at the bottom of the dress, for extra spookiness, which I adored, but when I wanted to become Amelia Bedelia, I had to wear a long apron to cover it up.
During this time of year, school art projects were of course at a high. We drew pumpkins and haunted houses, made hanging ghosts, and then at Thanksgiving did the ever dutiful turkey by tracing our hands.
In third grade, we watched a cartoon about the first Thanksgiving. It included Miles Standish as a character, and a lovely women who wore pink, even though the other pilgrims were dressed staunchly in black. Miles, who wore blue, loved this woman in pink. They talked about how much they were in love as they sailed on the Mayflower. What would this new world bring? It brought them to Plymouth Rock of course and into the presence of the Natives, who they did not understand. It wasn’t long before we saw a freezing winter and a kind Squanto, helping the pilgrims to food. I always believed that there was indeed a huge sharing that occurred on one very special day and that it was set down then and there in the calendars of all pilgrims and Indians to be called Thanksgiving.
My favorite Thanksgiving tradition began shortly after seeing this film. The class was asked to dress as either a pilgrim or an Indian, depending on what thought might be more fun and what might be easier for our parents to come by. At the time, of course, I had no idea the political incorrectness that can come with being a seven year old dressing as an Indian (or the political incorrectness of Thanksgiving itself. I’ve learned since that it was much more likely a meal like this took place with the Spaniards and the Natives, but who’s counting? Can we prove any of this, really?). I decided to go as an Indian and my mother and I made a headdress out of construction paper, cut a brown tee shirt to make a fringe effect, and looked at a book so find some Native looking designs. We made beads for me to wear by painting macaroni, and I wore tights and moccasins. Then, I had a thought. Why keep this dress-up limited to school? Why not dress up for Thanksgiving dinner at home? I would go as a pilgrim on Thursday when we went to Grandma and Popo’s house. I made buckles out of yellow construction paper and taped them to my patent leather shoes. My built a bonnet for me out of white paper. I asked her to remove the pumpkin from the dress this time. Simply covering it with an apron wouldn’t do. She did. I spent that Thanksgiving “acting” like a pilgrim as well, talking like they’d talked in the Mayflower cartoon. I wanted my brother to be an Indian, so we could share, but he didn’t want to dress up. And so for the next few years, I would alternate costumes, eating my Thanksgiving feasts as either a pilgrim or an Indian, not at all questioning how the first Thanksgiving had happened. Maybe the history of it was skewed, but I was interested.
I think now, when most people think of Thanksgiving, we don’t so much remember the pilgrims or Indians, but rather do focus on what we are thankful for. I am thankful that my family has always allowed me to be whatever I want to be!
