NEWS FROM THE HILLS
We are resting today in the aftermath of Thanksgiving, already a memory that has joined the countless number of holidays relegated to the past.
This is my favorite holiday of the whole year. At no other time is so much love and togetherness expressed. I look forward to preparing a huge family dinner and having all the members who can make it crowd around the growing table.
It is a blend of Thanksgivings past, memories of long ago people and times, and weaving present day pleasures into the fabric of one’s life. It is a time to pause and reflect on the genuine blessings that God has given—our families round about us, and the love that binds us together.
The last of Thanksgiving week should be a restful, leisurely time, spent in a break from kitchen duties and eating leftovers. Criss looks askance at the turkey-noodle casserole and asks, “Haven’t I asked the blessing over this bird three times?” I don’t have the heart to tell him that turkey soup is on the menu for tomorrow.
Most of the week has been spent in cooking. The men-folk in the family look forward to this time of year, and this is the week they get together at the camp to deer hunt and tell tall tales. All available sons and grandsons spend most of the week here. I am elected chief cook and bottle washer.
They have been making plans for weeks. Criss constructed a “deer house” that is unique. He put it together in the front of the garage, and endured some good-natured ribbing. One daughter-in-law asked, “What are you building, a Johnny house? It needs a quarter moon cut in the door.” Then one suggested that it looked like a bus house, only it did have a door. It also had a neat little window and a window seat.
Bekah and Savannah, two of the great-grands, used it for a playhouse. One of the sons yelled, “I know what it is! It is a “poutin’ house” for Dad to use when Mom throws him out of the house and he has no where to sleep!”
Criss just grinned sort of smugly and retorted, “Just wait until you all are up in your tree stands and the snow is blowing and the cold wind is freezing your hind legs off—I’ll be snug and warm in my little deer house.” Yes, he’ll be snug and warm all right—and probably fast asleep.
It reminds me of the tree stand that Andy constructed for himself one year. He came down to show it off with it strapped proudly on his back. He looked exactly like Darius Green and his Flying Machine—a good stiff wind would have picked him up and sailed him off into the wild blue yonder.
When we finished laughing at it, Kevin did admit that it would probably work just fine if he could find a square tree to use it on. Andy retorted, “Go ahead and laugh—you’ll be laughing out of the other side of your mouth when I come draggin’ my big deer in!”
He was right about one thing—if he had turned it over and used it like a sled, it would have been perfect to drag a deer on. I don’t know what happened to it, but I was right proud of Andy.
One of our friends purchased a safety harness to use with his tree stand. When Patty asked him if he needed help in putting it on, he replied tersely that he had to learn to put it on himself. A little chastened, she sat down on the couch and began looking at a magazine.
He huffed and puffed, struggled and wallowed, until finally he succeeded in getting the thing across his back. “How do I look?” he asked Patty proudly. She could barely answer for laughing. He looked like Tarzan who had swung into a particularly tangled web of grape vines.
“You could have helped me,” he said in a hurt tone. “Well, excuse me!” she replied. “I thought you said you wanted to learn to do it yourself!”
We do have a lot of fun the first week of gun season. Sometimes the weather turns cold and blustery, with snowflakes dotting the air. The boys come in from their days’ hunt, chilled to the bone and hungry, and the good smell of a hot supper reaches out to them.
After supper, the conversation turns to the days’ hunt with each one recounting their individual experience. Laughter abounds, and the ties of affection and kinship are woven a little tighter.
All the money in the world can’t buy these special times that we have together, nor can we ever go back and live them over again. Life is fleeting, with no promise of tomorrow.
That is why we need to cherish each family gathering, for we may never be together in such a fashion again.
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