what does a black man have to do to get pumpkin pie?

these times come and go, but right now, i really miss my grandfather. my own father died before i born, so my grandparents raised me while my mother worked. and once my grandmother passed away in 1989, it was just me and papa for 10 years. that's a lot of quality time. i suppose i rarely miss him more than during thanksgiving. that's when he would make pumpkin pie. it wasn't any overdone affair made with a few cups of sugar here and a couple pounds of butter there. he just used to recipe on the back of the libby's can, and actually omitted a few ingredients. whatever he did, it yielded this light orange-colored confection that i looked forward to year after year.

the last thanksgiving before he passed away, i was bugging him to show me exactly how he made the pie. however, when he called me to watch him do it, i was off in the family room playing with cousins and didn't want to stop to pay attention. it's one of the things i've kicked myself the hardest for since he's been gone. i knew how much i loved him, and i knew that if he didn't mean the world to me, he was pretty dang close. yet, i still couldn't quite get it together to appreciate him the way he deserved.

probably the chief of all offenses was the thanksgiving that i asked him to cook. and then i think i either forgot that he did, or just was having too grand a time elsewhere to come home and eat it. when i did get home later in the day, he was telling me all about the dressing he'd made. he was so proud of it because he tried out a new recipe using apple juice instead and wanted to see what i thought. i had just eaten when i got there, so that was one strike against me and then i tasted the dressing and though it was good, it didn't compare to my mother's recipe and i wasn't hungry besides. i didn't spit it in the trash and shout "ptui", but whatever quietly unthrilled reaction i gave probably wounded him just as bad.

my grandfather didn't show a lot of emotion, but that didn't mean he didn't feel any. my biggest and most often recurring regret in these last 6 years (and my how time flies) is that i didn't -- or somehow couldn't properly -- express that i appreciated him and everything he did. i still carry that with me and i could break down and cry if i think about it too long because i never wanted to hurt him, but i just didn't have a grip on how spoiled and fickle a child i was.

all the same, i know that if papa was still here today, he wouldn't hold it against me. i guess when you get to be over 80 years old, you just don't care to hold on to things like that. and for me, he let a lot of things go, i'm sure. and yet with that assurance in my heart, it still bothers me. because it's one thing i wish i could go back and re-do. i wanted him to know how much he meant to me, and i'm sure he had a clue. i just hate leaving guess-work when it comes to that stuff.

it really doesn't matter though. nothing that's happened has much bearing on the present or the future. except that i have yet to get pumpkin pie to taste like i remember it. you know, african-american families swear up and down by sweet potatoe pie. you talk to them about pumpkin, and you're likely to get cussed out. but to me, the traditional aspect of the holiday isn't complete without it. so i've made two already. the pumpkin was on the shelf for awhile, so it had a darker appearance to it. and i don't think i put in enough evaporated milk, so it was way too thick and sweet. i'm trying again tonight though. before i put it in the oven an hour or so ago, it looked like the right color and i made sure i tasted a bit of the mix before i poured it in the pie shells. i think it'll be ok.

i'm sure everything will be ok.