“No amount of skillful invention can replace the essential element of imagination.”
—Edward Hopper
Delightful were the days when my sisters and I would carve out a small part of a day to hike to the woods, one of our favorite places, to become entirely different beings.
This time of year, especially, my older sisters would put ideas in our collective imagination as we trudged across fields to embark on adventures in a far-away place.
“This is the exact time of year that the people who lived on this land hundreds of years ago would gather seeds and nuts and dried-up berries so they could have a feast to celebrate,” my big sister would tell us.
We were pretending to be those long-ago people, foraging for anything just to add to the lure of the woods. I had no intention of eating anything I found, but I sure as heck wanted to be the one to find it. As the youngest kid, I was constantly trying to prove myself, therefore earning my keep.
All of this came rushing back to me yesterday, while spending time with my grandkids after school. Brooks, who will very soon be turning 9, told me a long story about long-ago Thanksgiving in America. His little sister, age 6, could not stand to be outdone. “I know exactly what Thanksgiving is. It’s about those people who wore funny clothes and their name starts with a P!”
My dad always said that Thanksgiving was his favorite of all holidays. We gathered to enjoy one another’s company with more food than we could ever possibly eat. The harvest was complete, his hardest work done for another growing season. It was amusing to watch Dad compete with his favorite fellow, his Uncle Sam, to determine who could put away the most food in a single meal. “Oh, darn, I got full,” is something I can still hear my father say with a chuckle in his voice.
After helping do dishes and put the feast away, we couldn’t wait to get out the door to go explore the woods. I always wished to be a pilgrim or a native who had lived in the woods for all time, but I had to settle for whatever part my sisters assigned to me.
“Don’t bring your cap gun along! Pilgrims didn’t have cap guns!” I remember being told, taking at least half the fun away.
“The inner life of a human being is a vast and varied realm,” wrote Edward Hopper. I got to live large and vibrantly that very life for a time, tromping through the woods that took us back to a simple, wild, danger-tinted era of history.
I wish you and yours a blessed Thanksgiving.
