Thanksgiving Day of 2002 was certainly a day that our family will remember and cherish. It wasn’t in an elaborate restaurant with turkey and all its trimmings.
It was miles away from home, down some back roads, through the woods to a clearing that had been logged off, deep canyons and big piles of debris. In other words, elk hunting area.
We found a large butt cut from a tree that we used as our table. No tablecloth. Our sons used their caps to dust off the table. A box of fried chicken, a container of potato salad, napkins, plastic silverware and paper plates were placed on our “table.” The word was, “Help yourself.”
My husband Marvin and I sat on an old, rotten log and sons Dale and David sat on butt cuts from logs. The sun was out bright and warm. What a scrumptious meal to enjoy on Thanksgiving Day, out in the wilderness, away from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. Every once in a while a crow would fly overhead, probably looking for a handout.
What were we having for dessert? I had baked a pumpkin pie. No Cool Whip or whipped cream, but who needs that when you’re roughing it?
When we had finished our meal and looked over the area thoroughly, Dale and David pointed out certain landmarks. Then we left our restaurant in the back country and headed for Long Beach and the surrounding area. A walk on the beach was wonderful, sunny and warm with no wind, not even a breeze.
We looked at our watches and decided we should head for home, as it gets dark early in November.
Now maybe some people consider this an odd way to celebrate Thanksgiving, but as for us it was the most wonderful way on Earth to enjoy the day.
Everybody Has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Email is the best way to send materials so we don’t have to retype your words or borrow original photos. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.