Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone

Jean Leon Gerome Ferris (1863-1930)

  First Thanksgiving Poem

If I had been a Pilgrim child
Among the fields and forests wild
Where deer and turkey used to roam,
A cabin would have been my home
With fireplace and earthen floor
And bearskins hanging at the door.

I would have gathered berries bright
For candles fragrantly alight,
And dug for clams and picked the corn
And laid the table smooth and worn.
Or hunted nuts hard-shelled and good
And helped in any way I could,
With time to laugh and play and run
When Indian children came for fun.

And on the first Thanksgiving Day
I would have met with friends to pray
And thank the Lord for all his care
In keeping us together there.

Margaret Hillert

Norman Rockwell  (1894 - 1978)

On this Thanksgiving Day
it seems more important than ever
to count our blessings.
May God bless you and yours
Peace, Good Health, Prosperity and
Much Happiness.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!


  1. Pam, For some reason, the comment section is working for me re: your blog! Have a great Thanksgiving!! Take Care, Big Daddy Dave

  2. Hope you are having a wonderful Thanksgiving; Love that Norman Rockwel scene.

  3. And to you and your family. So grateful for my blog friends.

  4. Hope you had a great Thanksgiving Pam!

  5. I love reading your posts! They always bring a smile to my face! :)


Good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods; good bread with fresh butter, the greatest of feasts!
~ James Beard

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I am happy to hear what you have to say, and appreciate your taking the time to stop by and leave a comment.
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We went for Sunday rides in the Model-T when my grandmother didn't visit. My parents liked the orange groves, miles and miles of orange trees always either in blossom or full of oranges. My parents had a picnic basket and a metal chest. In the metal chest were frozen cans of fruit on dry ice, and in the picnic basket were weenie and liverwurst and salami sandwiches, potato chips, bananas and soda-pop. The soda-pop was shifted continually back and forth between the metal box and the picnic basket. It froze quickly, and then had to be thawed.
~ Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye


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