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I come from a family of jokesters and I am well known for my pranks – but hey now, I come by it honestly - I inherited it from somewhere and that somewhere was my dad. I was the first born of three boys so I was privy to a few more family stories than they were. There were plenty of holiday stories but the one that stands out to me about Thanksgiving came from the days when my mom and dad were first married long before they were blessed with any of us.

When my parents were first married, they lived up in a rural area of New England in a small house they rented from another family member. My dad was a pilot and had some pretty erratic working hours back then and he wasn’t expected back home until the wee hours of the morning Thanksgiving Day. My Mom, wanting to make an impression on her new family decided to cook a nice dinner and had invited about 20 people over.

She started prepping the night before setting a nice table with her best dishes and even a flower arrangement. She had shopped for all the ingredients and pre-made some glorious side dishes which were refrigerated and would only need a heating for the dinner. She had ordered a nice 25 pound freshly killed turkey from the local butcher which sat wrapped in paper in the fridge. All she would have to do in the morning was stuff it and put it in the oven. She set her alarm clock for 4 AM so she could get that turkey roasting.

She arose promptly when the alarm went off and went to the kitchen and make herself some coffee. Now alert she took the turkey out of the fridge and unwrapped it. To her great shock there sat the turkey with all its feathers still attached. Once she got over the shock, she gathered herself together to try to figure out what to do. This was her first time cooking a turkey let alone one that had not been plucked. She tried to call the butcher shop but of course it was closed for the holiday. She couldn’t think of a single friend or family member she knew who would be able to help her so the solution was hers alone. She plopped the turkey in the sink and began trying to pull the feathers out or the turkey but to no avail as they would not budge. Plucking turkeys was evident ally as skill she did not have. She was desperate and a glance at the clock was letting her know my dad would be home soon. She went into the bathroom to wash off her face with cold water and calm down and lo and behold! There lie the solution!

My dad arrived home as scheduled and called out to her when he came through the door. He was not greeted with an answer from a happy wife but a whole lot of loud buzzing and some swearing coming from the bathroom. He walked down to the bathroom and there was his pretty you bride leaning over the bathtub trying to shave the turkey feathers off with his brand new electric razor.

Now to this day I don’t know if this story is true. If I inquire, the two of them just smile and start laughing. My dad having lived on a farm when he was a kid knew how to pluck the turkey and all went well that day.

Post note: My dad was a hunter for years and always sported a couple of turkey feathers on his old hunting hat which he claimed were for good luck. Drawing a conclusion that perhaps these were salvaged from the half shaven turkey and asking if that was the case, he would just grin and reply and say:

“Don’t be talkin’ that jive turkey.”

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