Giving Thanks

In Johnny Miller's childhood, there were a few times a year when they'd leave the countryside around Armadillo Creek and go somewhere else. Sometimes, it would simply be a weekend trip to his Grandpa and Grandma's house, over across the state line. A couple of hours to their house, and then be with grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins for the next day or so, and then return home to normal life.

The big trip, however, typically came the day before Thanksgiving, and lasted through the Sunday following. They'd drive over three hundred miles, out of the mountains of his childhood, across the flat delta land, with its rice and cotton fields, across the big river, and into more of the same kind of country. They'd usually get off the big highways and follow the smaller two-lanes across the countryside. Their destination was their Aunt and Uncle's house, and Aunt and Uncle who were more like Grandma and Grampa than aunt and uncle.

Johnny and Tommy Miller couldn't hardly sit through their classes until noontime when school would end on that Wednesday, or on the years where school didn't let out early, their parents would come in and sign them out anyways. Then they'd hit the road. Once in a while, when they had a little extra money saved up, they'd stop at Wendy's in the city they had to pass through on the way - boy those burgers, even if it was only every couple of years, were something to remember. Johnny didn't get to eat out very often.

There were memories from those trips that would last through the years, burned into Little Johnny's consciousness, becoming threads in the fabric of his being. Even little things. From the sight, year after year, of sharecropper's shanties, looking like they were about to fall down, in the delta country, with, sometimes, a big Lincoln or Cadillac parked in the driveway. Johnny would forever wonder how it was that someone that couldn't afford to have a nice home could afford such nice cars. Another time, they were flying along in his Daddy's pickup, passing traffic that was crawling along, when all of a sudden, the motor stopped, right almost at dusk, in the middle of nowhere. They coasted over to the side of the road, and sat there. After some tinkering, and finally a couple of smacks against the electronic "brain" of the truck, it restarted and they continued on to their destination, where his Daddy would do an emergency repair as soon as an auto parts store opened.

Once they reached their destination, there were all sorts of interesting things to do. Their older cousin, who still lived at home with his Mom and Dad, had tons of Archie comics, and Johnny and Tommy would spend hours reading the comics. And, when things were quiet, they'd watch the Thanksgiving Day parades on TV (which was a treat since at home, the TV didn't come on before the five o'clock news!) They'd ride bikes up and down the road between their Uncle's house and their other cousins' homes. Sometimes, they'd even ride up the other way, past the big field with the pond and the pecan trees, to the small elementary school, and play on the playground, or even go out behind the school, and "explore" in the dumpsters. You'd never believe all the cool stuff that they found!

Probably the most memorable activity that would happen, for Johnny, at least, was just sitting on the old front porch. The porch had a wooden floor, and it was wide, and two or three feet up off the ground, and open underneath. The columns were wide, and Johnny could sit on the edge of the porch and dangle his feet off the front, while kids and/or dogs would run underneath the porch, and chickens would cackle out across the yard, or maybe he'd lean back against one of the columns supporting the wide roof overhead, and close his eyes, and breathe in the smoke of the Prince Albert cigarettes that his uncles and his Dad would roll, and listen to all the tales they told of times gone by.

And, somewhere before the weekend was over, they'd have a big feast, giving thanks for all that they had, and of those things, the most important of all was family. On Sunday, they'd pack up all their stuff and head for home. The drive home was never quite as fun and colorful as the drive to see family. They'd know that within the next day or so, they had to return to school. And they were so tired after all the non-stop playing and fun and family, that oftentimes, they'd doze a good bit of the way home.

Life in Armadillo Creek was good, but these occasional trips to another place were great, too. Being with family, during those special times every year was a wonderful thing. When Christmas would come, a month or so later, Johnny Miller's family would usually spend it at home, and although maybe they didn't get a whole lot of things, they did get love. And they'd always have the memories of the Thanksgiving that had just gone by.