a traditional black Friday

In some families Black Friday is a day of fighting early morning crowds for me-too "bargains" at the mall. For me, the day after Thanksgiving always recalls a wonderful family time with various cousins' families at my grandparents' house (now, "the cabin") in remote northern California. We enjoy a big breakfast to satisfy stomachs stretched out the night before, then, in our caravan of pickups, drive to the national forest to cut Christmas trees. (All perfectly legal: permits are only a couple of bucks.) We hope for a little snow at the higher elevation--just not rain. We traipse through the woods looking for one that is just right (and invariably too big), cut it down, lash it to the truck, and drive back for turkey sandwiches. Rampant materialism and daily worries are worlds away. Even though I've not gotten to participate in this tradition since moving away, I still cling to it, and typically hole up alone, hiding, that Friday. Today is perhaps as close as I've gotten to a "proper" day-after-Thanksgiving in almost 2 decades.

Elias let me sleep in, happily watching PBS Kids and playing with his new truck. After breakfast he spotted the next door horses out the window and proclaimed "I clean up!" and hurried about, picking up the many toys and books scattered about the living room. This was to butter me up so we could go outside. So we got coats and shoes on. As we were leaving he ran back in and grabbed the bag of carrots in the kitchen for the horses. I let him bring one carrot, supplemented with apple peels from breakfast and some aging celery. He was so cute running over to the pasture with the carrot held out in front. Unusually, though, the horses kept their distance, even the big brown one Elias calls "Happy." We got a few to approach within vegetable tossing distance, and one took a tentative bite of the carrot I held out. When I held Elias up with the carrot I discovered the problem--as the horse took a bite, my arm protecting Elias' connected with the newly-electrified top wire. I got quite a jolt, and from his response, apparently the horse did too, and took off running. Elias didn't understand why they were rejecting his offers and wanted to follow, now picking grass for them (since apparently carrots weren't working). I distracted him by suggesting we walk across the cornfield to check out the tractor parked in the distance. It was a nice, sunny, crisp day and he liked stomping though small puddles which had iced over overnight. After admiring the huge tires on the tractor and a giant abandoned pumpkin, we set off back, Elias forging his way through high weeds at the edge of the cornfield and I following. He suddenly plopped down on his back on a bunch of fluffy dried grass and invited me to join him "I lie down...Mommy lie down?" So we lay there on our backs, pointing out clouds and neat looking plants, and generally enjoying nature. We did that a couple times on the way back. He wanted to visit the mailbox, his thinly-veiled excuse to watch cars whiz by, and was duly rewarded by a couple of fast trucks "Whooooooaaaaaa!!!" Then we played catch and some basketball (he yells "Yea! Mommy!" and claps when I make a basket), and let the chickens out and gave them some corn. What a great morning. I pity the clueless, stressed out masses at the mall--this is what the day after Thanksgiving should be.