I’m just waiting for the flames to die down so I can clean up the kitchen a little. You are probably all saying the same thing, “Frank cooks?” Yes I do and contrary to the opinions of my children who one time endured an experiment with sweet and sour tuna fish and that one time I fixed corn pancakes I am a very good cook.
Barbara and I are spending Thanksgiving home alone, just the two of us. That has not happened in our entire married life. I think the rest will be good for both of us. We had invited the usual suspects but had to tell them they were on their own after Barbara's surgery. Lots of people have invited us to share the meal with them but we decided it would be better to have a quiet day at home.
The last time I had Thanksgiving without any family was in 1963 in Grenoble France. The French are, for the most part, ungrateful; so Thanksgiving has not spilled into their endless list of national holidays. Turkeys on the other hand are also ungrateful, but available only around Christmas. You can find them in the shop windows, hanging by their feet with head and feathers still attached. They don’t seem to mind the indignity. They hang there with the rabbits, quail, ducks and geese. It’s kind of like a barnyard on a hook but the animals are very quiet.
In 1963, my missionary companion Elder Hollinger from Panaca Nevada and I decided we wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving and get a turkey. We rode our Lambretta motor scooter 20 kilometers out of Grenoble and in a little village called Morrin we found a turkey at a farm house. It cost us 64 francs ($15.00) and weighed 8.5 kilos. The old farm woman put it in a feed sack and I held onto it while Elder Hollinger drove back to town. Unfortunately, someone cut us off and he drove into the ditch. I fell off but managed to hang on to the bird. I must have been some sight. A slightly stupid looking Mormon missionary wearing a suit, white shirt and tie and lying in a ditch with both arms wrapped around a turkey in a dirty feed sack. The turkey survived. Since it was only the 15th of November, we took the bird back to our apartment and tied it up in the bathtub. We fed it until the fateful day and I dispatched it with grace and a flick of the wrist. Dinner that year was mashed potatoes, gravy, dressing, and the toughest turkey I have ever eaten.
This year I am thinking that a couple of KFC two piece meals would be really good. I’ll make my own cranberry sauce.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better.
While you and Barbara were visiting, I called you "irreverent." I didn't mention it irreverently, since I truly believe you have earned the title. When someone is reverent, it means they are showing typically found giving respect. The truth is that most of us humoids, and the events of our manmade environments, don't have sufficient grit to warrant respect. So your actions of irreverence are respected and warranted. However, I do know this about you: You randomly find reason to show respect, which is rarely found in person or event; and when found, your reverence is profound. To wit: your commitment to Barbara and family, your testimony of the gospel of Christ, the great outdoors (albeit the outdoors has it's own irreverent moments), and the rendering of an honest response when warranted by circumstances. I value your irreverence and your friendship.
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