Mississippi in the 1950s and 60s. Thanksgiving for my family is a big deal. Everyone gathers to the Homestead, the rural farm house that’s been in the family for years. The aunts have been cooking for days. There’s clay pigeon shooting in the afternoon, fishing at the bream, and a mess of teenagers are tossing a football. The feast lasts all afternoon. As the stars come out, precious children are tucked into quilt pallets on the floor. Tiptoeing to not wake the little ones, pranking older cousins sneek out to play in the yard while the adults drink beer and tell stories over a final piece of coconut pie. You can’t just leave one piece of pie in the plate.