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Jim got up early this morning to get the “bird” in the oven. He prepared his delicious stuffing, sautéing it in a wok before adding it to the bird. A turkey is a traditional and festive centerpiece of Thanksgiving and was certainly a customary food in my family of origin. A Thanksgiving without turkey would not seem like Thanksgiving Day at all.

Last night, I watched a show on the History channel that explored the many myths about Thanksgiving. Two hundred years elapsed between a chance shared feast between the Pilgrims at Plimouth Plantation and their neighbors, the Waumpanog Indians and the recollection of that event as the “First Thanksgiving,” (which it was not). One written account is all that remains of that bi-cultural encounter. It is not certain that turkey was shared. The Indians brought along five deer, making them co-hosts rather than guests. There is much actual history associated with the American Thanksgiving and how it came to be so designated. That information has been documented. The myths that surround the holiday have been circulated due to write ups geared toward children.

The TV program that followed centered on the life of commercial turkeys. It began with an explanation of how the hens are artificially inseminated and showed exactly how the eggs are stored until the decision is made to incubate them. Once hatched, the precious fluffy darlings are placed in a “nursery.” The lasting impression I shall have of the entire show is that every part of the turkey is harvested; nothing is wasted. The bones and beaks are processed and pureed into a paste like substance that is sold to farmers to spread on their fields as the substance is high in phosphates. Even the testicles are cut in half, dipped in milk and rolled in bread crumbs, and then fried in lots of butter to become “turkey chips” for the more daring (no, thanks!). The feathers are processed and combined with olefin to make home insulation and other items.

The show went on to discuss turkeys in the wild and how they were almost hunted to extinction. One fall, we had a whole flock of wild turkeys in our backyard. There isn’t a time that we ride through the countryside that we do not see these birds in the fields of New Hampshire. They have made a recent comeback to the point that those on motorcycles should beware. Turkeys have strong wings and can fly at a rate of 35 miles per hour. They have caused more than one fatal accident in this state (NH) alone.

Well, Thanksgiving dinner is but a fond memory but there is plenty of turkey left over. In the coming days, I envision turkey soup, turkey sandwiches, turkey enchiladas, and turkey croquettes. My Mom was very fond of “Turkey Divan.” Turkey is a versatile meat that is tasty, any which way. So for those who prefer to eat Tofurkey (a soy food), more power to you. I am allergic to soy… anything! I’ll stick with the delicious unadulterated food that Providence has provided and give thanks for my blessings! Hope you enjoyed this special day!

Pat

I have to admit it: I love ice cream! Just now, I had a mid-afternoon snack of two scoops of vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips sprinkled on top (for Biotin intake- good for the brain) and chopped walnuts (healthy fiber). To that, I added some whipped cream (because I deserve it). Now, keep in mind that I try to limit ice cream indulgences to once a week, on Sunday. However, I’ve never passed up the chance to have apple pie “a la mode.”

While I was sitting there doing nothing else, memories of ice cream events were churning in my mind. I recalled the many trips my Dad, Mom and I took to Derry, New Hampshire to see their best friends who happened to live in the same town as a famous astronaut, and who happened to live near an ice cream stand. My mother would have dressed me up in a frilly party dress with a skirt that flounced out, as that was the style of the mid-1950s. I always got to choose what flavor I would like, and inevitably, that choice would be chocolate, and I’d request a sugar cone.

Before long, I would decide to see what would happen if I bit the end off the sugar cone. Inevitably, the same thing happened every time. The melting ice cream would drip onto my dress. My mother must have thought me incorrigible, a trait I still possess, I believe! There would be threats to never buy me a cone again. They fell on deaf ears. I enjoyed trying to beat the chances of dripping or not dripping on the dress.

We did not have ice cream at home, very often, usually just for birthdays. The refrigerator had a small “ice box,” hardly large enough to put anything besides ice cube trays. Of course, these were the days before mass-produced frozen goods.

My Dad loved ice cream every bit as much as I did. To his delight and ours, when we moved to Deerfield, an ice cream shop that made all of their own ice cream, had just started up. The place is still there and is still called Johnson’s Dairy Bar. Today, the restaurant in Northwood, NH is no longer owned by the Johnson family and the menu has expanded to a major pastry section and full service menu. Their delicious food draws crowds and the parking lot is often full to overflowing.

If milk is the perfect food, then ice cream is the perfect treat. These days, it is somewhat maligned and consumers are urged to buy “ice milk” or “frozen yogurt.” The latter choice has just as many calories as regular ice cream, but is a refreshing substitute. The flavor menu has expanded considerably. “In my day,” the choice was vanilla, strawberry or chocolate. Today, my favorites are “Mint Chocolate Chip,” “Pistachio,” and “Peanut Butter” ice cream (which I didn’t think I’d probably like at all!).

Ice cream has lots of calcium and calcium is a major help in deterring osteoporosis, a painful kind of bone dysfunction. Oh, I can think of many reasons to eat ice cream, not the least of which is swirling it around in my dish to make “soup” out of it. The result is a smooth concoction. When I did that as a kid, I was scolded. It drove my mother crazy, so that alone was worth it!

Pat

This morning, before I got out of bed, my eyes rested on an object on my bureau. The pottery piece, handmade by an unknown person, is curious in itself. It has an interesting shape and a top that comes off. You see, it was intended to hold oil and to serve, with a wick, as a type of light. This gift was given to me by someone who never saw it. She bought it at a yard sale. Let me tell you a little bit about my friend, Donna.

Born about the same time I was, Donna was given too much oxygen in her neo-natal crib unit. The result was irreversible blindness. Donna never let the fact of being blind get in her way. She graduated from Bates College, with a degree in Psychology. She took a secretarial job with the state of New Hampshire and worked there, many years, traveling every day from an apartment where she lived downtown, with just her cane as a guide, at any time.

When I think of Donna, the first memory that comes back is her laugh. She loved to laugh! She collected old records, really, really old records with funky songs I’d never heard before. She played banjo, sufficiently well to practice with a group of musicians who got together. And, oh! She loved to dance and would not miss a contra dance, if there was one within a reasonable distance in NH or Vermont. However, distance was really never an issue with Donna. She would go by plane, all over the country, to attend her National Federation for the Blind conventions. She could have served as their “poster child.”

She also hopped planes to go to “Rat and Mouse Society” conventions. She kept rats and liked them. She was quite fastidious about cleaning their cages and knew each of them, by name, even taking them to the vet. Seems a little odd to some people, perhaps. To me, I always thought the rats had symbolic significance in her life. Here we had an extremely intelligent woman who was underemployed and limited by her lack of sight. Yet, she was struggling daily to be a productive member of society and to not let her condition define her life. She is one of the most inspiring and strong women I have ever known!

Donna called me one day. She told me that she would not be around much longer. She had been diagnosed with a very aggressive brain cancer. As it turned out, she did not live long after that.

I am glad that I was the recipient of the piece of pottery. To me, it represents what Donna was all about – someone who would light the way for others. Donna, today, I remember you with fondness. I hope this little story lights the way for others who are struggling with personal challenges. The only real happiness in this life is that which we, ourselves, produce by cultivation of a positive attitude. Rest in Peace.

Patricia Cummings