Wish you and Yours a happy, healthy Thanksgiving.
It is a US holiday with a good spirit behind it.
Food, friends, family, and a letter to my Grandfather,
as I recall past Thanksgivings with Mom, Dad, the family they created...
Dear Grandfather Carl Lindbeck,
Who departed the material plane sometime in 1930,
the beginning of the Great depression.
I am writing to tell you that I am surviving the century that you would not believe.
Since 1930 a lot has happened.
I think it is odd that you give me characteristics that the source is unknown to me.
Strange that from time to time I talk about you.
You are a reality to me through stories told to me by my mother who only knew you as a young child.
Would you know how much she has suffered? The loss of a father, a legend she passed on to me.
The death of a friend's twin and a best friend and other friends and family,
renews my thoughts of those I have lost this and last century.
You are the first.
Creator of the unit born in my Mother that became me.
Now I write to you,
hoping your retrospection will light up my way.
Technically, of course, My Mother (your daughter), was born with the egg which became me.
Therefore, am I born with hers?
So did I hear your voice on some hot July night saying,
Happy Birthday Betz,
and feel the warmth flow in a little girl
soon to be replaced with
cold fear and dread.
It was, of course, the apples that made me think of that.