When the Grandsons were here this summer, I gave them a couple of pocket knives from the many that I inherited from Daddy. Oh how he loved those knives and how proud he would be that his Greats wanted them for their own. He loved hunting and fishing, so carrying an appropriate knife was a necessity.
Every year about this time Daddy would be in the woods. Hunting season is in full swing here in Arkansas. If you are from a family that hunts, you take off work...however and whatever you have to say to do this is acceptable. Some small business just close their doors and everyone has a few days off. No sense trying to run a business when everyone seems to have a touch of "Deer Fever."
Daddy would often kill us a wild turkey for our Thanksgiving meal. It was a leaner bird than a Butterball, but if you didn't know it was wild you wouldn't taste a difference. We often had homegrown vegetables to eat along with the meal. I can remember my parents being very proud of the fact that the meal cost practically nothing from their pocket. Maybe that was because they lived through the Depression, or possibly because my Dad's family is Cherokee Indian. Whatever the reason, I too felt great pride when we set down to the table on Thanksgiving!