Established
in 1937
Bob's Corner
It should not be difficult to come up with a column topic this time, what with Thanksgiving staring us in the face and gobbling our attention. Therefore, I will share some Thanksgiving memories, which might be as popular as dry turkey with runny mashed potatoes and weak gravy, but here goes.
As a small child, I always looked forward to “turkey day,” not only because of the time away from school, but because of the food, especially pumpkin pie. However, one aspect of the celebration I did not enjoy was the Dreaded Children’s Card Table. Often banished to that rickety, out-of-the-way dining site -- away from the adult population -- I felt ostracized. Besides, some of my cousins had less-than-polite table manners.
Beyond that, it always seemed that we got the odd bits and chunks of turkey, not the nice, juicy slabs. OK, so I’m a snob who should have been happy I got anything at all. Anyway, the pumpkin pie with whipped crème was always good.
We had a turkey once, back in Poway, Calif. I forget how we came by it, but the bird did live up to the critical comment, “You turkey!” Actually, it was a mean critter that would pursue anyone around the yard while rattling its tail and looking stupidly menacing.
The feathered fool met an untimely end one summer. Those familiar with San Diego County will know that Poway summers had temperatures hot enough to cook a turkey on the driveway. Well, that’s not exactly what happened. Unknown to us, the poor thing managed to enter our doghouse, then couldn’t get out. All it had to do was turn around, but … well, you know about the derogatory “turkey” nickname. So the bird expired because of heat stroke inside the doghouse, and we had to bury it. Sad.
A few years ago, Jan and I took a short trip during the Thanksgiving period and found ourselves at a small settlement not far from Reno. We went to the combination restaurant-gambling hall-liquor store for turkey day dinner. I don’t think that Jan ordered turkey, but I did. And guess what? As it was late afternoon, I got the odd bits and chunks of turkey, not the nice, juicy slabs. Oh well, at least I wasn’t at a wobbly card table. And the pumpkin pie wasn’t bad.
Other than the time I inadvertently smoked a pipe of illegal weed with my slightly eccentric ex-brother-in-law one Thanksgiving Day in Ramona, Calif., I’ve had mostly mundane times of it. On that sole occasion I have to admit that I ate two complete turkey dinners, and I didn’t care what shape the meat was in.
Also, the pumpkin pie was delicious. The whole thing.
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