Holiday Magick (43 page)

Thanksgiving in the United States commemorates a plentiful harvest and the cooperation between the Pilgrims and the Native Americans in the Massachusetts Bay Colony. In the 1620s, colonists celebrated with feasting, games, and offering thanks for God's help and support. In today's global supermarket world, most people are not as dependent on individual harvests and the threat of not having enough food available due to a poor growing year, but the Pilgrims lived and died by their harvests, and had reason to honor the day. While many of the traditions and foods that we now associate with Thanksgiving have morphed over time, some symbols, like pumpkins, have remained consistent through the years.

Why are pumpkins still so important to the Thanksgiving celebration? And what might happen if people decide to ignore that tradition?

Plymouth Colony, Harvest Time, 1621

“Thanks be to God.” John pushed the cellar door closed. “We will have plenty to make it through the winter.”

“Thanks be to Squanto, for showing us the proper way to plant.” Thomas rubbed the back of his neck.

“Thomas! It is blasphemous to speak so.” Thomas released his breath slowly. John was a good neighbor, but tended to think of himself as a bit more righteous than his fellow man.

“I do not think that it is, Brother John. After all, it was God who brought Squanto to us, and Squanto's guidance has led us to the abundance that will keep our families fed this winter.”

“The Lord
does
use many tools to aid his children.” John nodded sagely. “But I fear too many are drawn to Squanto's practices of worshiping the creation instead of the Creator. I tell you, it would make your skin crawl to hear of all the superstitious practices being done by those who claim to put their faith in the Lord! Why—”

“Peace, brother.” Thomas clamped John's shoulder, cutting off his rant. “I'm sure there are perfectly rational reasons for the things you have witnessed.”

“But what about the pumpkins laid about the houses and not stored in the root cellars?” John shouted.

“You heard Squanto's story about how pumpkins have always protected his people from evil spirits. I'm not saying that I believe in what he told us, but—”

“Come now,” John interrupted, undeterred. “Are we really to believe that spirits have a sense of smell?”

“Perhaps people just like pumpkins. Besides, you remember how many people we lost last winter. Maybe having the pumpkins around will protect us, like Squanto said they would, and keep Satan's forces at bay. The Lord, after all, does want us to be safe. What could be sinful about a few harmless squash, if they help people feel protected?” Thomas chuckled.

“Widow Ellis has one on her table for decoration!” John practically screeched. “Decoration! It is unseemly!”

“Well.” Thomas steered John toward his home. “Widow Ellis may not know what to do with a pumpkin, but my Martha does. You should come over and try some of the pumpkin and spiced apples she made last night.”

Present Time

“Thanksgiving menu time!” I pulled the phone away from my ear, wishing Mom didn't put quite so much enthusiasm in her voice. “I know Thanksgiving is next week and I'm sorry about the late notice. I just don't know where the time goes these days. But I've got the turkey and stuffing. Katie's bringing a green bean casserole, and Lilly asked to make a pecan pie and some new cherry dessert that sounds delicious. So can I put you and Mandy down for hot rolls and maybe a salad?”

“Sure, Mom.” I held the phone against my ear with my shoulder, searching for a pen. “Anything else we can bring?”

“I think that about covers it. I didn't want to ask too much from Mandy, now that you two have a new baby and all.”

“Thanks, Mom. I—hey, who is bringing the pumpkin pie?”

Mom sighed her “not-this-again” sigh. “We're skipping it this year. No one likes it but you and Katie, and she's having Thanksgiving lunch with Eric's family, so I'm sure she'll get a piece there. If you don't think you can live without it, I'm sure you can stop somewhere and buy a slice.”

“But it's tradition. We can't have Thanksgiving dinner without—hold on a second.” I felt my big-brother instincts kick in. “Who is Eric?”

“Katie's new beau.” Mom was clearly pleased with the change in topic. “Well, I say new. They've been together about two months. That's a record for her, you know. And I think she really likes this one. Who knows, this one might actually turn into something serious.”

I stifled a groan, imagining the wedding bells dancing around Mom's head. When Mandy and I got married, Mom was in wedding planning heaven. I felt bad for Katie and Lilly whenever they decided to take the leap. Really, I did. “Mom, Katie's twenty. Does she really need ‘something serious'? She's not even out of college yet.”

“Look at you,” Mom countered. “You're twenty-four, and you're married and have a baby.”

Yeah, but that's different. Katie's my little sister. She shouldn't be interested in boys yet
. “Yeah, well. This Eric better treat her good.”

“I think you'll like him. He'll be at dinner and you can see for yourself.” Mom sounded like she was practically bouncing.

“Okay, we'll see. But are you sure about the pumpkin pie thing? ‘Cause I don't think Mandy would mind whipping one up.”

“Greg! Don't you dare ask her to do that. Lilly is very excited about being in charge of the desserts this year. It would hurt her feelings if you brought something different.”

Mom was right about that. Lilly had just turned thirteen and was “going through a difficult stage.” Translation: the world ended every day, and nobody let her do anything she wanted.
Girls
. “I know. So what if I just ask her to make a pumpkin pie? She's so excited, I'm sure she'll go for it.”

“Greg,” Mom sighed. “Half the family is on a diet. We
do not
need three desserts.”

“So we drop the cherry thing.” The answer was so obvious I was amazed Mom hadn't thought of it before.

“I gave Lilly the choice and that's what she picked. And your father will have a heart attack if he doesn't get his pecan pie,” Mom snapped. “Now can we please drop this and have a decent holiday?”

“Yeah, fine, Mom.” I fought the urge to ask why
Dad's
pie was more important than mine. “Listen, Jasmine will be up from her nap any time now, so I gotta go.”

“Okay, honey. Give that baby kisses from Grandma. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I glared at the phone after punching the “end call” button. I knew it was stupid to get worked up over a pie, but it was
tradition
. Everyone knew how I felt about messing with traditions. I mean, we do things for a reason, right? Isn't that how they became traditions?

“Was that your mom?” Mandy glanced up from her magazine.

“Yeah. She wants us to bring rolls and a salad on Thursday.” I paused for dramatic effect. “And nobody is bringing pumpkin pie.”

“That's fine.” She turned her attention back to the crossword puzzle she'd been working on. “I'll just need to run by the store tomorrow.”

“But doesn't it bother you a little that we won't have pumpkin pie?”

“Nope.” Mandy didn't look up. “The fewer sweets there are, the easier it will be to resist them.”

Before I could argue my point, Jasmine's cries filled the room. “Naptime is over,” I sighed. “I'll get her.”

“Thanks, babe,” Mandy mumbled around the eraser she was chewing on.

“What time did you want to leave?” Mandy's voice and the scent of baking bread floated in from the kitchen.

“Around noon, if we can.” I turned the volume down on the television. “Mom and Dad wanted to spend a little time with Jas before dinner.” I glanced over at Jasmine playing in her pen and shook my head. It was hard to believe she was almost six months old now. She seemed perfectly content to play with her rattle and teething ring, so I returned my attention to the television program, a “History of Thanksgiving” special.

“That's right, Tom.” The “expert” being interviewed for the program blinked behind her owl glasses and nodded, causing her blond bob to bounce. “We all know the story of the Pilgrims and the Native Americans celebrating a successful harvest with the first Thanksgiving. But most people are unaware of the darker reasons behind some of our traditions.”

Darker reasons?
The host looked as skeptical as I felt. “Go on.” He nodded.

“Well.” The expert beamed before her image was replaced with a black and white drawing of a hooded figure hovering above a hut. “The Wampanoag people believed that the earth was full of unseen spirits. The dark, or evil, spirits were often blamed for failed crops, sickness, and death, as well as nightmares and bad luck. It was believed that the spirits were able to cross into the plane of the living with relative ease around harvest time, from about mid-October through November. The longer the spirits roamed the earth, the stronger they became, making the end of November a very dangerous time.

“But, for reasons we still don't understand, the Wampanoag people also believed that a certain fruit had the ability to keep these spirits at bay. The image on the screen switched to one of a fall centerpiece on a table. “They believed that pumpkins were the key to a safe and happy home. It wasn't long before the English settlers picked up on this superstition, and pumpkins became essential to every garden and a common table centerpiece.”

“And I thought it just matched the fall leaves.” The host flashed a fake smile as the camera turned back to him. “We'll be right back after…”

Stretching, I changed the channel, hoping to see the good floats on the parade. “Hey, hon?” Mandy walked in, blocking my view of a float full of fairy princesses. “Would you pack the diaper bag while I change her?” She scooped Jasmine up out of the playpen. “Then I'll be ready to go whenever you are.”

“Yeah, sure.” I clicked off the television with a sigh. I was never going to see the end of the parade. At least I'd get to watch the game later.

Half an hour later, we backed out of the garage. As usual, Mandy was completely convinced we'd left something we absolutely
had
to have. “I just feel like we forgot something.” She ticked off items on her fingers. “We have the bread and the salad. The pictures your mom wanted, diaper bag, bottle, toys, Jas's pacifier. What am I missing?”

“Wife, check. Baby, check.” I adjusted my seatbelt. “Empty stomach, check. I think we're all set.”

“Wait. Did you put extra diapers in the bag?”

“Yes.”

“How much food did you pack?”

“Two servings of baby food and the whole tub of formula.” I sighed. I loved Mandy, but sometimes she acted like I couldn't handle anything on my own. “And, yes, I remembered a baby spoon.”