The first Thanksgiving after my grandfather died, Granny Smith didn’t want to have Thanksgiving in the house. She wanted to have a picnic in the woods. The year was 1937. While the Great Depression might have eased for some folks, money was still tight. Calves were selling for pennies a pound, and oranges didn’t bring much either. To get cash money, Aunt Ouida would go down to the lot where a steer had been penned up, would shoot the steer, butcher it, lay the meat on the back seat of an old Ford, and take it to town to trade out for groceries. My aunts were tough women. 

Despite the grief, despite the hardships, the family gathered for Thanksgiving. They went down to a spot on the Buckhorn Creek, under some oaks. That became the Thanksgiving spot for years and years until the one year the creek was high, and they couldn’t get back there. 

Thanksgiving moved to a spot in the woods for a few years. I have a few vague memories as a child running around the campfire and crying because my cousins got to sleep out in a tent, and I had to go home and sleep in a bed. My, how age changes things. But unpredictable Florida weather flooded that campsite, and we moved up to a spot near Uncle Dow and Aunt Nell’s cowpens on the Kelly Roberts Road. A grove of scrub oaks provided shade, and we ate sitting on bales of hay.   

I remember, as a child playing with my cousins in the palmettos. While the grownups visited, we played war and hide and seek. The eating was always great: ham, turkey, swamp cabbage, and guava cobbler. One year, someone brought a skeet thrower, and we blasted away at skeet. I wasn’t a good shot, but it was a lot of fun.   

In my college years, we were all into hog hunting. We would go out in the dark with Jeeps and dogs and chase hogs through the swamps and woods. Those were the days when you could hunt hogs till two or three in the morning, sleep an hour or two, then get up and sit in a deer stand until mid-Thanksgiving morning.   

The cousins my age started to marry and have babies; I was the last one to marry. I had to miss one Thanksgiving in my life; my son was due on the day before Thanksgiving. He took his time, however, and didn’t arrive until the next week.   

Somewhere along the way, ribs replaced turkey at Thanksgiving. It was definitely an upgrade. Swamp cabbage and guava cobbler is still on the menu.   

We started taking generational pictures a decade or two ago. There were twenty-one cousins in my generation. My cousin Barney was the oldest; I’m the youngest. We have a thirty-eight-year gap in ages. Now, there is only six in our generation left. The age gap for the children’s generation is larger: Marcus is the oldest, and my daughter Sarah is the youngest. They have a fifty-two-year gap.  This Thanksgiving will be special to me. Not only will this be our 85th year of Thanksgiving in the woods, but it will also be my grandson’s first Thanksgiving in the woods. He is part of the fifth generation.   

We’ve upgraded to folding chairs and tables now, though I still prefer to sit on the hay. It feels more like the old days. It will be good to see the cousins and remember we are family. I will ask the blessing, since I’m the preacher in the family. That duty was turned over to me thirty years ago. I try to remember to thank God for family, for our country, and for the blessings we all have. Our family has come a long way from having to butcher steers to trade for groceries. People will drive up in $70,000 pickup trucks and Suburbans. There will even be a Jaguar and a Lincoln. Everyone in the family lives in a nice house, and judging by the food on the table, no one is missing any meals except to lose weight. 

But when I pray at Thanksgiving, I always try to remember to thank God for the people who went before us. They worked hard to give us a better life.   In 1937, they were tough enough to survive. They worked hard and held onto the ranch, believing better times were ahead. They had faith that God was there and he was looking out for them. 

This Thanksgiving, wherever you are, give thanks to God for the food and for our country. But also remember to give thanks to the people who went before you. Give thanks to your family, for people who survived tough days, wars, depressions, and recessions. Back in the past, someone had faith; someone fought to give you a better life.