Ordering information is located at the end of the column, which deals with, of course, Thanksgiving, but offers a different perspective.
AND TO TOP IT
ALL OFF -- SOMEBODY INVITED THE INDIANS
If you thought standing in long lines at the
supermarket, looking for the best price for the best turkey, whipping up pie
crusts, crumbling cornbread for dressing, slicing, dicing and otherwise
concocting salads, vegetables, and assorted other "extras" was
exhausting, just think of the original Pilgrims who prepared that famous First
Thanksgiving Meal. No supermarkets for
them. No convenience foods, no,
siree. Let's just imagine...
Preparations began about a week ahead of time, when
one of the leaders of the colony proclaims, "It was a good harvest. We should prepare a great feast to give
thanks." Everyone nods in
agreement; the men pick up their firearms and disappear into the woods to Hunt
for Game. This leaves the women-folk to
do Everything Else.
Everything Else consists of: hauling water, building fires, tending said fires, grinding up
the grain so it can be mead into bread, milking the cows, carving pumpkins
(oops, wrong celebration; that was for Halloween) -- scooping out the pumpkin
meat, squashing the squash...the list grows and grows as the days pass.
And every evening the Men folk return, empty-handed,
gobble up half of the prepared foods, fall asleep and then the next day, set
forth again to Hunt Game.
Don't you suppose the women folk got a bit tired and
resentful of the whole thing? After
working all that time on such a huge feast, to have their men come back from
the Great Outdoors with nothing but sore feet and empty stomachs, and no thanks
for all the womenfolk have done?
It doesn't seem to matter, however, and the days pass
and the feast grows bigger and finally, one day, the men return with Game. Well, at least, they called it Game....
"And prithee (pray thee, this means) what callest
thou that?" one of the womenfolk demanded, pointing to a huge, scrawny,
ugly bird dangling from a Proud Hunter's hands.
"It is called Turkey," the Proud Hunter
replied, flinging it onto the trestle table.
"Clean it and cook it, woman; it will be part of our
feasting."
"Hummph," Woman retorted, surveying the
scraggly fowl. "Couldn't find a
deer, huh? So we must make do with this pitiful excuse for meat?"
Of course, there being no reply, Woman prepared the
Turkey as best as she could, and the men kept bringing the blasted things in
from the woods. Day after day, more
Turkeys appeared, some of them bringing fowl...oh, excuse me. We were talking about the Men folk bringing
Turkey, weren't we?
Well, after a while, Women became inventive, stuffing
the insides of the loathsome fowl with all manner of ingredients, each one
vying with the other for the most unusual combinations, until at last, the Big
Day arrived, and all was in readiness.
The Women had this Turkey thing down Pat, by golly. They wearily placed the foodstuffs on the
trestle table, the Men folk settled down to enjoy their repast, when suddenly,
from out of the woods, a Tribe of Indians walked slowly towards them.
"Prithee," one of the more adventurous Women
asked her husband. "Why are these
savages approaching?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Husband said
through a mouthful of Turkey. "I
invited the Indians to have dinner with us."
Hmmmm. There
may be some modern-day similarities here, after all. After many days of preparing a feast, and their husbands Hunting
for Game (channel surfing the TV. for the best football games, that is)
womenfolk finally set the food on the table.
The doorbell rings. "Who
can that be?" she wonders idly.
"Oh," says the husband as he settles behind
the mounds of food, preparing to carve the turkey, "I forgot to tell you
..... I invited my brother and sister and their families and Uncle Oscar and
Aunt Jane to have dinner with us...."
Some things never change.
Buy Link:
http://www.amazon.com/Ashes-Dead-Lovers-Garage-Sale-ebook/dp/B00GNHS8OE/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1385600622&sr=1-6&keywords=marilyn+c+morris
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