Yeah, it's a little late. So sue me, or take away my poetic license. Or you can complain to Anonymous. It's his fault, after all. He instigated this little childhood conspiracy. I was too innocent to dream up such an evil plot. Honest.
The First Thanksgiving
In 1972 we made my dad eat turkey for the first time.
Ever.
From 1960-1971 we ate lasagna and sausage for
Thanksgiving.
In late 1970 my brother and I began to plot the holiday dinner menu—
with no success.
At six months old, my mother said I ate ravioli instead of
baby food.
In 1938 my great-grandmother chopped the heads off live chickens.
My father was six years old.
Man landed on the moon in 1969, I stayed up late to watch.
Anything was possible.
From 1965-1973 I was only vaguely aware there was a war.
Mom didn't let me watch the news.
From first to fifth grade I drank tea after school with my grandmother
at least once a week.
In sixth grade I was an Indian for the Thanksgiving play
because I had black hair.
Nobody in our family had a birthday in November.
Mine was 15 days before Christmas.
My other grandmother always fixed turkey/mashed potatoes/pumpkin pie.
It was our second dinner of the day.
In early November of that year my brother and I discovered
guilt trips.
In 1972 we made my dad eat turkey for the first time.
Ever.
4 comments:
Glad to have been such a positive influence and such a stellar role model in your childhood!
Hey, everything interesting I learned, I learned from my big brother. *g*
Dad still does not eat chicken or turkey,willingly.
He's been suprised a few times after reading the ingredients of some pre-packaged food.
When I cook on the grill for us....he considers the grill "contaminated" if chicken has been cooked prior to his steak or pork spiedies.
I started calling him the "Italian Rabbi" for his food rules!
You don't have a special grill just for him??
Do you have any 'food rules'? I seem to recall at one point, your food groups couldn't touch each other. :)
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