I lived in Australia for a couple of years, and one summer I went back for a visit. I stayed with my former landlady Joanie and her family, with whom I’d been close. They had introduced me to fish ‘n’ chips wrapped in newspaper; I introduced them to iced tea.
Joanie was happy to see me again. “And look,” she said. “We’re all set to celebrate your holiday on the 4th of July.” She opened the freezer door to reveal a turkey.
She had remembered the date. She had gone to some trouble to get a turkey, not, at the time, a popular meat in Australia. I made pumpkin pie, and we gave thanks for the freedom to be together, share stories, and catch up.
As your brats sizzle on the grill, don’t mind me. I’m over here in the corner with scones, jam, and tea. And turkey.