One Thanksgiving Day in the early 1980s, my in-laws and I were busy getting ready for the day's ritual when, without warning, the temperature dropped and the gas lines froze.
Since our gas furnace was temporarily kaput, it meant the fireplace would have to be stacked high with plenty of logs to keep us warm.
We needed to endure the cold outside because the bird was to be barbecued on the grill using my wife's new recipe. The recipe called for stuffing the turkey with cabbage, apples and a few other vegetables - sounded like a great combination.
Thanksgiving's sights and smells
It was indeed brisk outside as we proceeded to start the barbecue. After rearranging the coals for indirect cooking, the turkey was placed on the rack. The lid barely covered the big fowl.
A smoke trail streamed straight up as far as our eyes could see as we nursed a round of martinis.
The aroma was unlike any other at Thanksgiving that I could recall, but my wife thought it to be very pungent - a barnyard smell or worse!
Nevertheless, it was time to serve. I managed to get the whole turkey onto a platter. It was not a photo-perfect specimen as the legs, wings and breasts completely fell off with no assistance. This meat was going to be really moist.
Despite my wife's earlier comments, the apple flavor came through and the rest of the bird tasted almost like ham - delicious!
A cold meal
That Thanksgiving was much better than the one I experienced at Fort Leonardwood, Mo., back in 1957. Talk about cold!
It was my second eight weeks of basic training, and the barracks were so chilly, we slept with our boots on under the covers.
We marched to the mess hall around 4 p.m. for turkey dinner, but the cold spell had caused a slight problem. The ovens were not heating. The second problem: We were all starving. Thus, we were served pink turkey.
It wasn't even warm and was really chewy. We had given in to our hunger and ate it anyway with little comment.
The white meat actually seemed done, but the legs - to put it politely - had obvious veins embedded within the red meat. The mashed spuds and yams were fine, but the dessert that I thought was cornbread pudding was actually cornbread underdone.
As we ate, the cadre announced, "Hurry! When you're finished, there are others waiting outside."
Back at the barracks
The best part of that holiday, was back at the barracks. A buddy went off-post to a store and bought some whiskey. I would have joined him on this venture but I was busy with a sergeant who had such an accent I had to keep telling him I couldn't understand him.
The sergeant was just inches from my face and yelled again. But instead of saying, "Huh?" I just smiled, and that really annoyed him.
He got even closer and then stepped back and said, "No weekend pass!"
Fort Leonardwood was an experience best enjoyed from far away. I was there for nine weeks and never saw life off-post. We usually played cards, and when there was a call for volunteers at the mess hall, we would hide on the fire-escape ladder outside the window from the second floor.
We managed to endure many lost holidays with tolerance. Today, we still sometimes need a bit of tolerance to endure the holidays.
Richard Carl Lehman can be reached at mptimes@nwlink.com.
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