My Most Memorable Thanksgiving

A Rhode Island born and bred girl, I went far away for college in the big wide-open state of Montana.  I knew not a soul within 180 miles of Montana State University in Bozeman.  I didn't have a car, just feet, legs and a bicycle for locomotion.  My second year of college I moved off-campus and shared a basement apartment with a girl I'd never met in my life.  This turned out to be a good choice: Cathy Buck was very welcoming.

When Thanksgiving rolled around, Cathy invited me home with her to Geraldine, Montana.  It was a long ride in a big blue comfortable gas guzzler car.  It was 1977.  The ride itself took almost all day.  I don't remember much about the ride.  I don't recall the food we ate.  What I remember is our arrival at the Buck Ranch.  There was a large arch of a sign over the driveway that proclaimed 'Buck Ranch' at the top of it.  For all intents and purposes, the driveway was a road, about 1/4 to 1/2 mile long, deep in snow.  Cathy looked over at me and quietly said, "Hold on."  We flew over the top of the snow till we got to the house.  Her family welcomed us inside: 5 kids, 2 parents- like mine in number.

I slept in the same room with the 3 sisters and her brothers slept outside in the bunkhouse with the ranch hands.  The next day, Thanksgiving, we must have eaten.  It was grey. It was snowing.  I could see the butte out the kitchen window, an amazing geological outcropping.  After dinner the radio blared "Bad weather, icy conditions- stay home and stay safe."  The phone rang.  Next thing I know we're zooming off to Fort Benton to meet Cathy's cousins.  We played pool, drank beer, and shut down the bar.  Then we played crack the whip on the street in Fort Benton, Montana.

And that, Dear Reader, is my most memorable and wonderful Thanksgiving!