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Turkeys are fowl looking birds that can’t fly, but on the other hand, can fan out colorful feathers to impress chicks. The former inability is a social climbing killer but the latter skill is well, impressive.

Their meat is somewhat on the dry side, as I suspect their humor would be if they could have a sense of humor. But then if they could reason at all they’d be hiding in the woods come November instead of crossing roads in flocks that seem to be in no hurry whatsoever, and have a negative fear factor for death by rubber tire.

Why, you ask, am I slamming turkeys when it is obviously the time of year to fully appreciate their star of the feast status? I guess I have decided to roast the turkey because they strike me as being fair game. It is, afterall, THEIR week to shine… with oil and butter just before entering the oven.

Everything has its season, and if you season it correctly, turkeys can be tasty. The best part about the bird (besides crunchy oven-roasted wings that were pointless for flying) is how it’s the only guilt free part of the feast.

All the vegetables (and let’s face it- the rest of the meal is pretty much vegetables excluding stuffing, cranberries and rolls) have been disguised with butter, bacon, cheese, marshmallows, brown sugar and gravy.

One Thanksgiving as a young mom I capitalized on the opportunity to drink myself silly on white wine while my parents doted on the kids, mainly feeding them peanut butter crackers all evening to make up for the fact that the feast went untouched by them. And we say children have no common sense.

Well, sometimes their moms don’t have much common sense either. This was when box wine was considered cool. Yes, there really was a time in American history when box wine was cool and every refrigerator had one.

It was around the same time we worshipped, as a nation, the green bean casserole made with Campbell’s soup as if it were a national treasure. Any Thanksgiving table without it was considered suspect and that household was looked upon suspiciously after that, like maybe they were hiding communists in their closets.

Anyway, I almost ended up in the emergency room because as a rule, I never drank much, let alone anything out of a box with excessive sulfites. My experience could be a shared reaction that eventually put a damper on this clever phase of American history.

Or perhaps the movie Sideways should get most of the credit for raising our awareness level about wine, and how the real McCoy comes in a bottle with a cork, not a box with a spigot.

In conclusion I would just like to point out that birds of a feather flock together, and when it comes to Thanksgiving, family is the number one thing most of us are thankful for. So, enjoy yours.

Even the members that insist on fanning their feathers in a braggy sort of way, and the ones that gobble up everything in sight before you’ve had a chance to stuff yourself on seconds. Make every member of your flock feel valued, as if they could fly despite whatever has stunted their wings and fed their self-doubt.

Remember to keep your sense of humor, and stop short of hurtful dry wit distasteful as the overdone bird. Create some memories with your fine-feathered family. The kind that make you feel as satisfied the next day as that last piece of pie you selfishly hid in the cupboard.

So, this is the end of my turkey talk and in case you couldn’t find a valid message in there anywhere, here it is: If you make your green bean casserole with anything but Campbell’s soup – it’s not the real deal.

Oh, and drink your wine from a bottle – straight from it, if necessary.


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