Tackling Turkeys and Memories

Thanksgiving, well any holiday really, is a time for memories. please allow me to share a very prominent Thanksgiving memory for me; "Timmy the Turkey."

As a child Thanksgiving was celebrated at my childhood home, my Grandma Dorothy's home. I lived there with my Mom, my Grandma and my Aunt. My Grandmother, a widow was the boss, she made the plans and ran the household with a large personality. My Mom and I moved in when I was 4 1/2 after my Mom's second divorce. Also living there, temporarily, was my Aunt Judy while her husband was overseas in the Viet Nam war. We lived in a modest three bedroom suburban home in North Tulsa. 

Thanksgiving Day 1968

My Grandma Dorothy was a proclaimer of great ideas. If she could weave a way to make me stand out, shine or perform her ideas were golden. (In her mind) I will never forget my 7 year old Thanksgiving Holiday. It started the Saturday before. The day usually set aside for heading to the local grocery store and picking out the ginormous turkey she would baste and bake for Thanksgiving. This pre-Turkey Day Saturday started like the others before it. Get up early to go to the store before all the turkeys were gone. But the day soon took a turn for the crazy; by crazy I mean "what-the-heck-is-happening-here-crazy." As we pull into the parking lot I see what I hopefully anticipated to be a pop up carnival or festival. There were many people standing in the parking lot with eager, smiling faces. I saw hay bales in a large circle and people gathering around it. there was music playing and a man selling tickets. "Boom! I was riding something today!" If I had only known. As we approached the people Grandma uttered the words I longed to hear, "Let go find the ticket salesman." I spotted him right away and dragged my Grandma there. It wasn't until I held the ticket in my hand that I turned and saw what was encircled by the hay bales. TURKEYS! Live turkeys. Running around clearly disoriented by not being either in a barnyard or neatly packed in the freezer case of Reasor's Grocery Store. I saw this scenario going down hill fast.

Somehow in the midst of total confusion, bewilderment and disappointment I hear that the "Turkey Grab" was about to begin. The next thing I know the ticket was snatched from my hand, I am lifted over a hay bail into the turkey circle with a handful of other kids. The announcer instructed us that when we heard the whistle we could begin to chase the turkeys. The first of us to tackle a turkey got to take it home. Then before I could think that thought through, "Tweeeeeet." My competitive adrenaline coupled with the constant requirement to perform sprang to action, I tackled the first turkey and WON! 

My Grandma scooped up the turkey, tossed him in a burlap bag. Yes, she had it with her. In one swift movement she poked his head through the hole she had pre-cut in the bottom, and tied the bag shut with rope and tossed him into the back seat of her huge, red land yacht. the next thing I knew we were making the 45 minute trip to the country to my great-grandfathers farm. I assumed it would be Timmy's (yes, I named him) home. Grandpa had barns and fences and chicken coups so I knew Timmy would be right at home.

This is me and Grandpa Dasher inspecting my new pet turkey, Timmy.
(Notice the huge, red, land yacht in the background)

As we pulled in, grandpa came out and quickly began to inspect Timmy. He was impressed at his size, his health. He told me I did a good job! I was pleased! Then Grandma wanted to commemorate the the occasion with a photo op.

This is my Grandma Dorothy, me and Grandpa Dasher with Timmy.
He is posing as a turkey in a bag would.
Me, I am in perfect pretty foot.

And then the moment when the world turned upside down. My Grandma started boiling water, my grandpa starts sharpening the chicken head axe. I begin to sweat, panic, and worry. Why would we be chopping off a chicken head right before Thanksgiving? You eat turkey on Thanksgiving..."OH NO!" I then realized the awful truth.

This is me comforting Timmy pre-slaughter.
Grandma is photo bombing or hovering in the event I am about to stage a turkey release.

For the next, agonizing hours (maybe minutes but it seemed like forever) I stood there, petting Timmy, crying and telling him how sorry I was for getting him onto this. Grandma, paying no attention went along with the plucking prep and Grandpa was waiting for his moment to swing the axe.

Headless Timmy, being scalded to make plucking easier.
Uncle Harold supervising.
Me still apologizing and crying.

Why is this memory one I still carry? It could be because it was the moment I became a vegetarian, at least until next Thanksgiving. It could be the day I decided it was my job to save the animals of the world (have I mentioned I have 3 dogs, a chinchilla, a bunny and a guinea pig named Steve?) Or it could have been the day I decided my family was NOT like me, at all. 

The reality is, this moment is a special moment for me, now. When I look at the pictures in my head and these actual Kodak moments, I am reminded of how my Grandma was always the one who thought I could do anything, even tackle the best turkey of the bunch. How my Great Grandpa thought I was "spunky." He meant that as a compliment. He didn't give those out often. I remember that, while this was not the first time I cried over the plight of animals, I learned that for some people, meat to eat is a blessing from God. Timmy served my family well that year. I also look back and realize that I had a great sense of style, even at seven. I would wear that outfit today.

Oddly enough this is one of my favorite Thanksgiving memories. Although I didn't eat any turkey that year, in fact, I barely ate at all, I felt good about helping, about pleasing, about tackling a challenge that would send a lot of kids running. Rest in Peace Timmy. Well done good and faithful servant. How do your memories shape you?