I am worn to a stub, mostly on my right hand and my lap! I have shoveled in more turkey, dressing and gravy with my right hand than any unpracticed man could ever handle and followed it up with pumpkin and pecan pies! My lap is worn plumb smooth by Grands wiggling on it and a few snoozing on it. It is now glossed over with the pure gold of love and joy!
I sure do love the holiday of giving thanks and my close relative is a maker of traditions and wonderful food. Our female offspring has inherited the genetics to follow in the manner in a grand and magnificent way.She can whip up anything and it will melt on your lips! Our family is truly blessed and not just with the eats!
The male offspring like to hunt on Thanksgiving and it is encouraged with the warning of being home in time for the spread! They both hunt with cameras instead of guns most of the time. We do dine on venison chili in this camp occasionally, but this year itwas the cameras they were shooting.
They have a hideout (they call it a blind) from which they shoot. It is a regular hideout like the Youngers would have used a hundred years ago, but a little fancier. A little camp stove so they can have coffee, a heater run by kerosene and chairs. I sometimes wish I’d had one just like that for the first three years of married bliss when I really needed to have some peace and quiet to sort things out! That is another story for another day!
We got some sleet, freezing rain and it stayed cold all day. The Grands gathered up enough sleet to make a little snowman, came in cold and hungry and wet! I fed hay and poured out cubes all morning for starving cattle. They must have been starving the way they attacked the truck.That first cold, really-cold snap causes bovine to act like fat puppies. They buck, beller and threaten each other with deadly force. Nothing happens, of course, but they sure are fun to watch.
I got in about the same time the turkey came out of the oven and the smell turned into an aroma! The dressing was browned to a tee and steaming when I walked into the kitchen, and the chatter was at a low from Grands playing in the living room. What a blessing to an old man, and if I’d died at that moment it would have been OK. A feller has lived when he can come in after checking and feeding good cattle wearing his brand.
It is my opinion, and everyone has one, setting aside a day for giving thanks sure was a good idea, but when we live in America it is not enough.We should be thankful every day. We are free to live as we see fit, no army marching down our streets wanting to kill us, our children educated, roads and highways to travel, and even if our government is as crooked as a hound’s back legs, we have hope it will get better. Take time to give thanks today too.
You know that old leftover turkey is good and a lot less tough than a scrawny wild one your forefathers ate! If you can’t think of any other reason to give thanks, just be thankful it isn’t possum or coon.
Bill is a pen name used by the Gravette author of this weekly column.
Opinion, Pages 6 on 12/01/2010