Most of America salivates, waiting for the sacrificial turkeys to fatten...And the annual farce approaches: ~Pilgrim's Pig-Out~

In early childhood, I looked forward to that familiar November holiday. It was an exhilarating frenzy of fun and feasting with my numerous cousins.What Thanksgiving "represented" was a source of confusion and unanswered questions. I wondered about the occasional contradictions seeping into television and newspapers. Something didn't quite match the version put forth in my schoolbooks...

I listened, in awe, when my father spoke of his strong and gentle grandma, who had taken over for the mother and father he lost at the tender age of two years. He related stories of her chopping wood to cook meals and fill the fireplace... Of her bleeding knuckles, from scrubbing clothing on the washboard... Watching her meticulously comb her knee-length hair before she wound it into a tidy knot... The taste of her herbal concoctions for family ills. And most of all.. her pride, as she described her Cherokee mother. Where had all the Indians gone?