October 16 - just another day on the calendar for most people. A few days after the 12th, which has significance because of a rather ancient Spanish adventurer, and few days before the 31st when so much is made of ghosts, ghouls, and goblins. The average person sees the 16th as one more day to grind out.
This year October 16 fell on a Saturday. Here in Western North Carolina it was quite a beautiful day. The air was brisk in the morning. A stiff autumn breeze rattled the trees. Leaves are reaching their annual peak of color. As the day wore on, the sun began to heat up the day. Jackets came off. Tee shirts, flip-flops, and shorts were still appropriate as the last hints of an extremely hot summer could still be felt.
I spent much of the day completing chores around the yard. There is limited time to accomplish all that must be done in preparation for the winter months. So I chased leaves out of the yard, cared for the horses, mowed grass, began clearing the garden, and stacked wood. These are activities that have often filled the hours of October 16th.
But, October 16 is not just another autumn day in my life. It is the annual celebration of the day "I discovered America". It is not celebrated with parades or special sales, or those other annual community-wide events that sometimes occur in honor of that other "discovery of America". Most of the folks in my community had no idea that this day had any special significance. If they found themselves celebrating, it almost certainly had nothing to do with my own personal reasons. Still, this day is important in my life.
Growing up I don't remember a lot of special parties and I can only recall a few birthday gifts, even though I have received hundreds over these past 50 plus years. What I do remember are birthday pies. That's right - not birthday cakes, although I have had my share. I remember the pies.
Being one of five children in the home of a pastor meant that celebrations were not extravagant events. Mom and Dad quickly learned that what could make these occasions memorable was to find ways to keep them uniquely special for each person. Mom knew that I loved her chocolate and her butterscotch pies. So each year I could count on the sounds and smells of homemade birthday pies being baked on October 16.
Joyce, my bride of over 35 years has maintained this time honored tradition for me. As I sit here reflecting on the events of yesterday, I am savoring the taste of homemade butterscotch pie (I'll have some chocolate pie a little later). I recipe is the same one Mom used all those many years ago. Yesterday was a rather quiet celebration. The kids called to extend their hopes that I had a great day. I was serenaded by my 3 incredible granddaughters, then Joyce and I were treated to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. Later on, as I watched my favorite college football team play unexpectedly well and a couple of my least favorite college football teams be unexpectedly defeated I reflected on another wonderful October 16th and enjoyed the taste of homemade birthday pies.
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