PILGRIMS and INDIANS
~ Thanksgiving 1946 ~
Maybe my next big break in life would be on the stage. Maybe it wouldn’t.
But it promised to be a hallmark moment for Havenwood.
On the Friday night before Thanksgiving, to entertain our parents, siblings, other family, friends of family, friends and family of their friends plus teachers, older students and their entourages and anyone else we could recruit, my classmates and I scrunched together on a platform stage in the school cafeteria — under a huge, hanging, paper mache’ cornucopia stuffed with eight hundred pounds of real vegetables — and put on a Thanksgiving play.
The invitations read:
~
You Are Cordially Invited
To Attend
The First Annual Thanksgiving Play
Havenwood School Cafeteria
Fourth Friday of November
The Year Nineteen Hundred Forty-Six
Seven O’Clock in the Evening
~
I was cast as a Pilgrim woman cradling a baby doll that was swaddled in an itchy Indian trading blanket.
I even conceded to wear a Puritan dress with a huge, white, stifling collar and a bonnet tied under my chin, just to please Miss Greenlee. It was completely out of character for me, of course, but at least I didn’t have to pretend to have a husband.
I wished she’d just let me play Squanto, though. Nobody else came close to looking like him. And thanks to Miss Greenlee’s research, we’d grasped the sense of honor it must have taken for Squanto to persuade all the tribes to help the Pilgrims, considering how he’d been tricked away to Spain to be sold into slavery and then had to escape, and finally returned to America only to find his own people gone.
But his was another story . . .
Nobody played Squanto, we just said good things about him. So I sucked it up, tucked my braids inside my bonnet and held my tongue . . .
Clifford Buck wore some beaded moccasins and his granddaddy’s fringed-sleeve buckskin jacket, beating a ceremonial tom-tom while the audience gathered, to pay his tribute to Squanto and the Indians. I was grateful to see that.
Little Betsy Alcorn played a Pilgrim child standing next to a lanky farm boy named Percy Miller, who was happily dressed as a minister, collar and all.
Clayton Cox played a turkey posted next to the cornucopia. He’d been stuffed into a burlap sack filled with tissue paper, and had a red-beaked mask on his face and tree twigs sticking out the back for an avante-garde tail feather look. Since he couldn’t see with his mask on, his not-so-secret admirer, the Indian Princess Prissy Schwartz, kept inching closer to center stage, trying to get next to Clayton despite his bulky costume.
Other classmates wore more Pilgrim and Indian costumes. And Miss Greenlee had even let Bobby Blackstone and Teddy MacDougal be Indian braves, so long as they agreed to wear pants, left their tomahawks at home and checked their war cries at the door . . .
And when the lights were dimmed, we knew we’d waited nervously and long enough.
It was SHOWTIME !!
As we streamed single-file onto the stage, the whole place erupted in cheers and applause, so when I crossed through the glare of the spotlight, I forgave Miss Greenlee completely for not casting me in such a prominent role as Squanto.
Since she hadn’t let Bobby and Teddy wear war paint, none of our Indians looked particularly savage, and I didn’t see any old veterans in the audience to get riled up about it if they had. I figured the churchgoers could favor the Pilgrims, regardless, and nobody would be reluctant to bow their heads for the Thanksgiving prayer. Surely family and friends would still like us, no matter what happened.
Prissy and Minister Percy served as the narrators. Others had their lines. All I had to do was to not drop my baby doll, say “Dear Lord, we appreciate all the help these fine Indians give us,” on cue, and remember to smile at the end when Bobby and Teddy started dancing to Clifford Buck’s tom-tom.
We were good to go . . .
Most of the vegetables stayed in the cornucopia. The cornucopia stayed more or less where it was, except for when blind turkey Clayton got his tail feathers caught in the rope while he was wiggling around trying to scratch himself.
But the audience finally quit gasping and holding their breath as soon as the cornucopia stopped swaying, and nobody ran from the stage. Nobody got hurt and nobody sued, nor would they have thought to back then. And hardly anyone forgot their lines — if they did, Miss G was right there in the wings to remind them before they ever had a chance to feel embarrassed.
The show was a hit! Our Thanksgiving play would be remembered, hands down, as the highlight of Havenwood School’s Novembers for years to come.
And as teachers go, I wasn’t the only one who wondered that night if Miss Lucinda Greenlee might be the best kept secret in America.
~
From HAVENWOOD TALES Beginnings
Magical Mystery by D.J. Houston
Copyright©2010, 2013 D.J. Houston. All Rights Reserved.
Funny Stories – Social Commentary – Historical Fiction – American Literature Treasures
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Totally fun! I could picture every scene!
Happy, Happy Thanksgiving to all! 🙂
Thank you, Miss Nutter! It’s so totally fun to have you in Havenwood! Happy Happy Thanksgiving to you! I hope you have a delicious feast and the love of family and friends 🙂
Your True Friend,
Trudie – Narrator HAVENWOOD TALES
I hope you enjoy the NEW peeks in my story here of our famous Havenwood School Thanksgiving Play 🙂
I hadn’t ever enjoyed the fun memory of a Thanksgiving play… but I have now! Thanks, Trudie!
You’re very welcome, Mister Lem! It’s fun to see you in Havenwood 🙂
Happy Thanksgiving from D.J. and me!
Your True Friend, Trudie the Narrator
[…] the Christmas carols I remember best are the ones we learned in Havenwood School’s Young People’s Christmas Choir, under the able auspices of Miss Lucinda Greenlee […]
[…] Percy Miller found Katy crouched in the corner behind her desk… chewing the last of its foot. […]
Ahhh… the Thanksgiving play. I could picture it perfectly!! Thanks for being such a good sport about the costume, Trudie! Wonderful traditions are (usually) worth the high price we pay to enjoy and remember them as the years go by.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours! And I’m thankful for YOU!
Love,
Sally
Thank YOU, Miss Sally! for your wisdom and encouragement and just for being you. I think it’s worth the highest price to have a friend like you, who sees the past and future a lot like I do, too.
Happy Thanksgiving! And early Merry Christmas! It’s coming soon, you know 🙂
Love from Your True Friend Trudie
– Narrator of HAVENWOOD TALES
Oh, how I love having friends with similar viewpoints! LOL!!
Happy Holidays, Trudy! Enjoy every bit of them! 🙂
OOPS!! Of course you know I meant Trudie – with an “IE” at the end! My modern technology is having a bit of trouble acknowledging a spelling that doesn’t conform… so what’s new about that? 😉
Hahaha! My author knows just what you mean, Miss Sally! 😉
[…] The farm boys put together a bluegrass band with Clifford Buck, grown confident in his musicianship, featured on a broomstick cigar box guitar […]
Wonderful as always. And as writers go, I’m not the only one who wonders if Miss DJ Houston might be the best kept secret in America 😉
Hello Miss Liza! HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!
Hahaha! Brilliant! D.J. says “Not for long!” Sounds like she has a new website planned and hopes to see your works soon, too 😉
Thanks for being our loyal fan and Subscriber!
Your Friend Trudie McAfee – Narrator HAVENWOOD TALES
Oh, that’s exciting! Can’t wait to see it! And yes, I’m planning on lots of new pages and a website or two 🙂
Yaaaay! Share your writings with the world, Miss Liza! Can’t wait for your books ;-D
[…] I’d say Eight Hundred Pounds of Vegetables qualifies as Thanksgiving Humor […]
My mother always made a big Thanksgiving feast and invited all our relatives… But every Thanksgiving, as everyone pushed back from the table, stuffed like the bird had been, and my other aunts started clearing up and heading for the kitchen to help my mother wash the dishes, Aunt Libby would invariably say, “I’m sorry, dear, but I have a headache, I think I’ll go lie down for awhile.” And off she’d go to the bedroom.
She would reappear just about the time all the cleaning up was done. I actually think she did get to feeling poorly about that time, every year. She had made her dislike of doing dishes into another of her art forms!
Thanks for sharing yours and your Aunt Libby’s charming talents, Miss Lamont! A very Happy Thanksgiving to you 😀
Your Friend Trudie – Narrator HAVENWOOD TALES
I was fortunate to discover your theme in Bing
your Topic is excellent
I get much in your blog really thank you very much
btw the theme of your site is really wonderful
Happy to hear you enjoy the memoirs, new friend 🙂 I hope you find them inspiring.
Please visit me in HAVENWOOD any time.
Happy Thanksgiving, Miss Bess! Thanks for your fun story!
You inspire me to remember Thanksgiving FOOTBALL stories worth telling one of these days in the future ;-D
My Aunt Julia’s Thanksgiving dinners were hilarious, too. But CHRISTMAS was her forte. I’ll try to get D.J. to share some of those stories with you soon!
We serve baked ham for holidays at our house. Special recipe, takes two days to cook.
But one Thanksgiving we ended up eating more greens and black eyed peas than anything after the dog grabbed the ham off the table and ran out the back door with it hanging out of his mouth. By the time we caught him all the neighborhood dogs were having their own Thanksgiving dinner (with our ham).
We decided to count our blessings anyway. And good karma, the neighbors showed up with a homemade pecan pie and cookies we weren’t expecting. My sons made eggnog. And the football game was GREAT!
One of our best Thanksgivings ever!
Your whole Havenwood story warms my heart. This one is really cute and I can just picture these kids. But reading more excerpts in your archives, there’s a lot more depth to this story than meets than eye.
Thank you, Miss Bess! Your visits to Havenwood warm our hearts.
My author D.J. Houston is happy to hear you’ve enjoyed digging deeper into my story of HAVENWOOD TALES 😉
Your Friend,
Trudie Beth McAfee – Narrator
“You’re a hoot!” sums up this author’s work. Words that flow like water.
You’re delightful, Miss Dana!
Happy Thanksgiving to you and your brilliant YouthMuse team from all of us in HAVENWOOD!
Trudie, you’re a hoot. My childhood Thanksgiving play, it was a total embarrassment. Miss Greenlee is a genius.
Okay, how about the time my brother and I snuck in the kitchen and stole the raw cranberries my mother was planning to make cranberry sauce with for Thanksgiving dinner? We used them for slingshot bullets.
Hey there Sam! Happy Thanksgiving!
D.J. and I laugh every time we picture you and your brother slinging cranberries around the kitchen ;-D