Family on Thanksgiving: Jolene’s Heart is Full

Remember that Thanksgiving painting by Norman Rockwell? With a jovial white-bread family leaning into frame with smiling, delighted faces? A woman wearing an apron is placing a turkey on the table while the man standing behind her looks like your favorite grandpa. It was completed in 1943, and FDR was president. The painting is called Freedom from Want. The title stuck in my young mind. Was that even possible? 

When I was little, I didn’t know late-model cars from clunkers or that other people got their clothing new. Without a phone or TV in the early days, I didn’t know where we ranked in the class system. I didn’t know how poor we were. But even then, I knew very well that everything could all be taken away in an instant of bad weather, natural disaster, or failing markets. Farming is the ultimate gamble. Our security was a large garden, all the milk and eggs imaginable, and the animals we raised for our freezer. Farm kids are pragmatic realists. It’s not the same as going to the grocery store. Those memories never fade, especially on this holiday. 

It’s usually a quiet day for me here now that I’m an elder orphan. Or is the correct term family-free? We are a growing minority hidden in plain sight, but between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it can feel like we don’t exist. When the Norman Rockwell images come out and businesses sell the notion of the ideal family, or even the charmingly dysfunctional family, we aren’t included. Here’s the annual reminder that we aren’t all the same religion, income bracket, or even someone else’s idea of normal. Acceptance has always been our strength.

But for the first time in years, we’re having family for Thanksgiving. Ohmagosh! Naturally, I cleaned the barn first.

Next, the dogs. After surviving Jolene’s first bath, I scheduled a grooming appointment for Mister. It’s corgi tufting season, and I prefer to leave it to the professionals with industrial equipment. His groomer returned Mister to me, looking a bit worse for wear, with tiny clumps of white wool covering her. She said I wouldn’t believe how much hair came off him. I over-tipped her and, as soon as we got to the truck, took off the obligatory dorky kerchief. That sort of cheap foolishness embarrasses him, but he did ask for a paisley silk bowtie. He’s clearly the type to wear one, but I remind him that on a farm, dogs don’t wear people clothes. He looked at me as if I’d been born in a hole. 

Our secret guests arrived late Saturday and settled into the camper. We waited until morning for the big introduction. Jolene was in the yard when she saw them. They looked just like her. Inconceivable! They were her people. And even though Jolene thinks every day is the best day ever, she was over the moon. It was Penny and Parker, her parental peas. Jolene just has the one answer to any situation. Joy. 

Sandy drove them up from Texas for a visit and a post-publication celebration of her memoir, Diary of a Dogcatcher. It’s a great read. Of course, dogs don’t care about books, just the people who write them.

Soon Mister joined the party. Jolene showed everyone her toys, one by one. There was some sniffing, and Mister had to give Parker the side-eye. Penny did a perimeter check and barked at the horses. Jolene only wanted to zoom with her people. Emotions ran high. Play can turn into a tussle quickly, so we urged caution. But Jolene just has the one speed, and Parker and Penny keep up. Mister tried, but he explained that he was built for comfort. Not for speed. 

Jolene was a zealous recreation director, leading everyone in games, every relentless moment of the day. Actually, it’s just one game, but it’s never-ending. Parker glad-hands everyone. He does Morse code with his nose. Nose bumps are native Vallhund language, and he is an epic poet. Penny is a serious dog with one eye on Sandy and the other scanning the horizon. She is a dog’s dog, love in action.

Jolene follows her in the yard, watches Penny with awe, and takes notes. It isn’t a mother reunion. Their recognition is deeper, beyond mere human understanding. Maybe a worldview or a herding dog ethos. Much too busy to be lap dogs, they are filled with curiosity and play, but also serious about their humans. Penny at Sandy’s feet and Jolene taking time out of her busy schedule to check in with me. I swoon. 

One day, we drove to Canon City and walked Main Street. Drained, Mister stayed home to read. We wandered with our dogs and looked in windows. Jolene greeted strangers and sniffed every spot that Parker did. It was peaceful. Then we drove uphill on curving roads to the Royal Gorge and a big view. Nature is always such an attitude adjuster. A faith healing in rocks and sky, trees and oxygen. Then home for supper after another full dog day.

Mister tried to be gracious. He tried to fit in. He ran after the ball with everyone and then scared himself by catching it. Sometimes he worries he’s losing Jolene, and then he plays a little rougher than he means to. He barks a little louder than usual. What if Jolene leaves with these dogs who look like her? But then it’s bedtime, she’s tucked in close to him, and all is well.

Finally, it’s Thanksgiving morning. Jolene and Mister wake up exhausted from the abundance of dog life. So we sleep in until 5am. Then zoomies, and the humans have pie for breakfast. It gets the question of when to cut the pie resolved, and then we settle in watching the dogs like every other day. It’s good. By now, the dogs are all settled. The Dude Rancher and Jack, the senior dog, have joined us, and we do something really crazy. We watched Sandy’s team win a football game. Our hoots and cheers alarmed Mister. We aren’t sports fans here, and he thought we’d lost our minds until he figured it out. He says football is just humans playing fetch. What’s the big deal?

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, a day devoted to low expectations. Eating and playing tug are enough. There is a local Turkey Trot 5k so runners can purge their guilt about the upcoming calories. I think calories evaporate in the face of gratitude.

It’s been quite a year for most of us. Hard times keep us sharp, but they can also make us cynical. Life has loss and if we are lucky, if we live long enough, maybe we all end up with found-family at our table. Where would I be without the people that dogs and horses have brought into my life?

Thanksgiving is about abundance, and I pray we all have a rich harvest. Not just crops but of the good in our lives. It can feel like a superhuman feat to look for joy even in times of despair. It isn’t blindness to reality but choosing to control the only mind possible. It’s following a dog down a trail rather than the hate-mongers around every corner. 

But that phrase, freedom from want, still makes me pause. Isn’t a desire for better as natural for people as zooming is for dogs. Isn’t that one of our chase skills? Optimism that we’ll catch the ball. Run the fastest. To be like Jolene and find the joy in every moment. Then curl up and rest. And do it again in the morning.

[Part 28. Read all the episodes of Jolene’s Story here.]

I’ll be giving a writing class in January called How to Write a Memoir if You’re Nobody, open to anybody. Details coming soon.

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