An Early Thanksgiving
Late February…that’s a good time to be recalling…no, wait. That’s about nine months early!
It was oh, about 25 years ago. Jean and I and some others in the car, as I recall, were headed to Cousin Betty’s on Thanksgiving morning. The trip normally took about an hour, driving west to picturesque Dekalb, Illinois.
We had told Betty that we felt it was our turn to provide the turkey, and Jean had had the idea to put the bird in the oven the night before and let it bake slowly. (Could this have been one of the early experiments in baking turkeys in paper bags?) Anyway, we put the huge baking pan and the foil-wrapped turkey in the trunk of the car and set out for Betty’s.
Somewhere just short of Dekalb, we had to stop to pay a toll. I rolled down my window (the temperature was in the mid-teens) to hand the money to the toll-taker. He reached to take the money as he said, “Happy Thanksgiving!.” He sniffed a little and said, “Boy, I really must be thinking about dinner, because I can almost smell that turkey!”
We laughed and laughed, rolled up the window and left the poor man to come to grips with his imagination.
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