Since Thanksgiving is about family (and also killing Native peoples with smallpox), I thought that I would include a little blog post for my homies who aren't going to eat pie with me this week. It actually makes me sad, because they seem awesome.
Great Great Great Great Grandpa Andrew:
Oh my gosh. You were born into slavery, and by the time your life ended, you were a free man. I'm still trying to find out more about you (other than the fact that you had awesome penmanship), but I'm already in awe of you. I hope the strength that you must've had, not only to escape, but to make a new life, is somewhere in my blood.
I think that you should be the one to get the turkey. You deserve it, big guy.
Grandpa Lorenzo and Grandpa Cora:
You had ten kids! And a farm! Wow. I also don't know a whole lot about you guys, but the fact that you maintained a gigantic family and a farm at the same time is something to be proud of. Also, you survived racism. Which must've sucked.
Mashed potatoes for you guys, I think.
I've been trying to find a picture for you for the longest time, and I won't stop looking until I do. My mom and her siblings loved you, but are still hella bitter that you never bought a DeLorean when you had the chance. You sound like you were really cool, like a character from the 80s who wore leather all the time.
I'd totally name a kid after you.
(I mean, I'd give your name to a random cherub I see walking through the streets. But the heart is still there.)
How I wish that you were somehow related to me. I'm in love with almost everything that you've written. I feel like you were so ahead of your time, from the ideas you expressed in your writing to your fabulous hair. I wish that you were still here, just so I could meet you and start crying.
Happy Thanksgiving, guys! I hope that you use this time to hang out with family, no matter who is part of it.