When I was young my cousin Bruce and I used to hang together at all the family get-togethers. We were inseparable as children. There were only four months difference in our ages and we got along (in)famously. Well, there was that incident with the Skippy dog food in Grandma Strong’s kitchen… and of course this epic tale:
I have said it before, my mother was not a good cook, but she tried her best and on Thanksgiving meals she poured her heart into the task. With a family of six, and relatives to feed, she would get up at 4:00 AM to begin roasting the big turkey to feed us all. The smell of it filled the house and all of us kids would be in and out of the kitchen wanting to know, “IS IT DONE YET?”
How do mother’s survive the commotion?
As well as the turkey there were candied yams, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, assorted vegetables, and fresh-baked dinner rolls to drown in butter.
Oooooh, and after it all there would be the pies!
Apple, pumpkin and mincemeat…
although I never understood the need for mincemeat.
Well, the big event was finally at hand! We all gathered around the table, said the blessing and dove in…
However, on this particular Thanksgiving Bruce and I were truly at odds. There were five kids at the table, and we all wanted a leg. My Dad said that we must “…share with the other kids at the table” and we proceeded to argue:
Bruce: “I’m the oldest and biggest kid and I can eat a whole leg by myself!”
Me: “That’s not fair! That’ll mean that I have to share with all three of them!”
This went on for a bit, until Dad said:
“Fine. You want a whole leg for yourself? Then you will have to eat the whole leg and anything else you put onto your plate.”
We looked across at each other, and sneering in victory proceeded to pile it on…
Plates cleaned of all the piled on goodies, we then picked up our treasure and ran for the door wanting to devour our ill-gotten booty without the little kids accusatory stares. Once outside we danced about on the porch leering with bulging eyes at each other. We could not believe our fortune!
One for him and one for MEEE!
These were the biggest turkey legs in history, we thought, and they were all ours! Then, tilting turkey legs, we began in earnest to gnaw on them. After only a few bites we began to realize our folly. We were already truly full!
It was at this moment we began to really consider the proviso my father had given us.
We must eat the whole thing or suffer the consequence for our greed.
Having barely made a dent in those legs we had already begun to slow down. Looking back at the kitchen window we could see my father giving us the look.
He had a way of drawing his mouth into a thin line, his eyes becoming beady with brows knit, and a little tick would start in his left cheek just below the eye… he was truly angry at us for our greediness.
We looked at each other. Moaning, Bruce pulled up his shirt to show me how full his belly was and whined that he couldn’t take another bite. At this, my dad opened the window and calmly said:
“You wanted it now eat it.”
As we sat there listening to the rest of the family, we heard them laughing and enjoying their meal. We began to feel sorry for ourselves, as we continued to pick at our huge, meaty, turkey legs.
Then Bruce whispered, “Hey Lynda, I’m going to give the rest of mine to your dog, he’ll eat it all, come on!”
I instantly knew this was a bad plan, and opened my mouth to say so, when my dad reappeared at the window and said,
“Don’t even think about it!”
“How does he do that?” was Bruce’s whispered lament.
We were skunked. We had to eat the whole thing or suffer my father’s ire, and so we sat there and…
Each bite we took felt like a rock in our bellies. I looked at my tummy and it was pouched out just like his. Silently, I began to cry. I wondered why I had wanted a whole leg in the first place. Wouldn’t sharing have been the better thing?
Now it seemed that with each bite I took, I was piling up another stone in my belly. I hurt.
I remember thinking that each bite lacked flavor, and in finishing those last bites I also realized that there would be no pumpkin pie with whipped cream for me that day.
I felt I was going to explode
That was over forty years ago, and to this day I have no real desire to eat turkey. I haven’t spoken to Bruce in a very long time, but I am sure that he would remember that particular Thanksgiving vividly.
Was my father wrong to have done what he did?
Perhaps, but I forgave him a long time ago. Now I look back on that day and laugh at my foolish greed.
Just don’t ask me to eat turkey.
22 thoughts on “Of Thanksgiving Past: or death by turkey leg”
We don`t eat turkey that much down here, mind you we don`t have the tradition you celebrate ( good on those Indians who rescued those poor pilgrims – I bet they regretted it later !) its interesting that you have 3 major celebrations in 3 months, autumn/.winter months at that. In NZ it is hot and sunny (usually) at Xmas and most families have gone away from the traditional English food, all hot and cluggy, to yummy salads, cold meat, maybe a hot ham, new potatoes, asparagus, cold puds ie pavalova, fresh berries, , fruit salads, triffle with lots of sherry – all sorts of summery food
I can just see you both with aching tummys !
Marcia, your celebration foods sound delightful! It is rough to have so many celebrations in one short spell… because then there is such a long haul to the next long weekend!!!
BTW, what is “cold puds ie pavalova?
You would have loved eating with our family … the legs were NEVER eaten!! Until days later when we made a turkey curry :)) LOL not one leg was ever eaten at the table until I think I was 15 or 16 and we had the neighbours over :)) and was amazed to see them all fight over them , at the time I thought it was the weirdest thing Id ever seen.
Great story , and a great lesson 🙂
I do forget sometimes that we might speak English, but we do have different sayings !! Pud id just short for pudding as in dessert and a pavalova, – pav for short is made from egg whites and sugar, a big meringue, covered in cream and berries or kiwi fruit – very sweet but a traditional summer eats here. The flamin Aussies alwys reckon they invented it, but they didn`t !!! I think you could probably google it and get the story – named after Anna Pavlava the dancer .
Our long weekends tend to be in the summer, 6 wks hols for the schools frm Xmas on, Waitangi wkend in Feb then Easter with Queens Birthday in June (winter) and a long wait to Labour wkend in Oct . The school shave 4 terms so they always seem to be on holiday !!
That was quite the lesson your dad taught you guys… Hopefully this Thanksgiving was filled with lots of laughter and pumpkin pie. 😉
Yes it was Anke! Our neighbors down the street invited us to join their family for turkey, ham and all the ‘fixins.’ I was polite, I ate three bites of turkey, and thoroughly enjoyed every bite of the other wonderful things she made. We had a good time!
Oh, and I was not stuffed when I left…
Your story is wonderful and I suspect that beyond your taste for turkey, your inclination to excess was also strongly affected by your father’s method. I also suspect he was reacting to more than this one instance of childish rapacity. Hard lessons really do sometimes require tough knocks and although I certainly don’t condone abuse, I believe parents have become too reluctant to deliver these hard lessons when necessary.
Thank you for the compliment! I did worry that the reader would come away feeling this was “abuse” and I never once felt that. As an adult I can laugh about it now, though the tummy ache was not pleasant at the time (that I resented). I’m so glad you see it that way! 😀
Sounds to me a like a pair of little kids got their comeuppance! And parents did things like that when we were kids.
Thanks for sharing your post on my blog – I enjoyed it so much, but I should have eaten before reading yours. Now I’m hungry for some turkey.
Nancy, not to worry, because soon you will have your wish and be able to keep enjoying it for weeks to come! LOL!
Or, do you put your turkey in packets and freeze it? We are having smoked goose this year… one we raised.
I will post about it of course! (the cooking and eating part that is!!!) 🙂
Actually, I do freeze it in two cup packages. This time of the year when it’s so cheap we’ll buy & cook six or more turkeys and stash more in the freezer. As a result, we tend to eat it all year long.
Can’t wait to hear about the goose!
I never understood the need for mincemeat, either! But at least there was more pumpkin left that way! 🙂
Patti, the original mince meat was more meat than fruit QUOTE:
“To make Pyes – Pyes of mutton or beif must be fyne mynced and ceasoned wyth pepper and salte, and a lyttle saffron to coloure it, suet or marrow a good quantite, a lyttle vyneger, prumes, greate raysins and dates, take the fattest of the broathe of powdred beyfe, and yf you wyll have paest royall, take butter and yolkes of egges and so tempre the flowre to make the paeste.”
From: A Proper newe Booke of Cokerye, declarynge what maner of meates be beste in season, for al times in the yere, and how they ought to be dressed, and serued at the table, bothe for fleshe dayes, and fyshe dayes
Click the rather long title above to be taken to the “Mincemat Pie, History of Mincemeat” page. Amazing page really, and you know, after reading it I think I might have preferred an earlier version of the pie! 🙂
OMG Lynda! This is what the Québécois call tourtière. My in laws’ meat pie recipe has ground beef, pork and veal with onions, garlic and three spices – as mentioned in your link for Minced Meat Pie. C’est incroyable!! (But it’s only for Christmas, so Joyeaux Noël; )
Deb, I’m glad you like it! I have actually given thought to making REAL minced meat. I’m sure it must be much better than the candied, seasoned, fruit junk they serve in place of the real thing. 😉
This is a fairly good representation of tourtière. Don’t be afraid to bump up the spices to your own preference; this recipe left out the cinnamon, so add the same amount (to taste) Meat pies can be made ahead in bulk and frozen once cooled. N.B. Cut baking time by 10 minutes and use aluminium pie plates if you plan to freeze your pies (and allow approx. 30 minutes at 325*F to finish off from freezer to table).
Thank you, Deb, you are so kind to share with me. I will let you know how it turns out.
Reblogged this on Life on the Farmlet and commented:
I recounted this story two years ago, and because it is one of my favorites I am sharing it with you again. Besides, some of my newest friends haven’t seen it yet.
(Is is cheating to reblog yourself?) 😉
That’s a great story. The moral seems to be, be careful what you ask for–you might get it. 🙂
Bill, I had never thought of it that way before, but you are right… I love it!