One holiday I haven’t tapped (lately) is Thanksgiving (unless you count the Thankspatrick’s Day thing, but that was the tofurky of creative writing). Thanksgiving seems like a humble occasion that should remain unsullied by trivial musings. But humor is appropriate if you consider Thanksgiving from the food angle.
I typically shy away from writing a column about holidays.
There have been exceptions. I’ve written about New?Year’s Day, Groundhog Day, Presidents Day, Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day, April Fool’s Day, Earth?Day, Easter, Father’s?Day, Fourth of July, Independence Day, Labor Day, Columbus Day, Halloween (twice) and Christmas (14 times).
Other than that, I steered clear.
One holiday I haven’t tapped (lately) is Thanksgiving (unless you count the Thankspatrick’s Day thing, but that was the tofurky of creative writing). Thanksgiving seems like a humble occasion that should remain unsullied by trivial musings. Gratitude is not for jesters.
But humor is appropriate if you consider Thanksgiving from the food angle. Let’s face it, the focus of the holiday (other than the giving thanks part), is to eat enough to induce a nap before the Lions fall behind by four touchdowns.
To eat, someone has to cook.?That’s where humor came into play for me last year. When mealtime came, I?realized I had cooked the turkey upside-down. It caused no problem with safety regulations (verified by the meat thermometer that I tried to remove with my bare hand). It also had no adverse affect on the stuffing, which made its way from box to boiling water without a hitch.
It wasn’t the worst mistake I could make. One year, I forgot to even buy a turkey and had to hunt down a thunderbird at the last minute to save face. The wrong-way turkey did, however, scorch my ego. Nobody would have known, but several guests saw me standing next to the stove in tears as ?I lamented my inability to follow foolproof instructions stapled to the Package-o-Giblets.
When I told everyone what happened, they reassured me the meal would be fine and to please stop crying like a first-grader. They told me to count my blessings, that I could be living on the street, ruining a holiday feast for the disenfranchised.
I thanked everyone for their kind words, and the meal commenced without further incident until pie time, when we realized I had forgotten to buy Cool Whip. Then, nobody spoke to me the rest of the day.
All was forgiven on Christmas Eve, when family and friends gathered to see if I would find a unique way to botch the lasagna. In that regard, I did not disappoint.
Dennis Volkert is features editor at the Sturgis Journal.
Contact him at email@example.com