In response to the Carrot Ranch, Flash Fiction Challenge of January 4th, to write about Copper Country.
Mom always made us pasties. We grew up eating the pocket meals filled with beef, potatoes, rutabagas and onions. Her father’s people were from Cornwall, England and that is what they ate.
Years later, I married a man whose grandmother was from Cornwall, England. He and his family ate pasties too.
One year, he took me on vacation to Copper Harbor, Michigan. Beautiful country. We saw black bears on Brockway Mountain. Enjoyed a Woody Herman concert in the haunted, Calumet theatre and we ate pasties. Because that’s what the “Cousin Jacks” and “Cousin Jennies” would eat in Copper Country.