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Eagle and Stuffing on Givingthanks Day
We paused to give thanks, thus the clever name “Thanksgiving” which sounds loads better than a holiday called “Givingthanks.” Now begins the battle against those seven holiday pounds the average American is said to pack on at year’s end. In this unique case, I desperately hope to be below average.
It dawns on us to be grateful for what we have. We call together family and friends, some of whom can amazingly be considered to be both, cook our hearts and our hearths away, and share and feast together. The morning after, if our turkey-laden guts will allow, some will rise early enough to brave the cold, the predawn traffic, and other die-hard shoppers to hit the stores and shop for bargains. Buy more, save more, and have even more stuff. (Rinse and repeat as necessary.) The more you have, the more there is to be grateful for – see how it works?
I have never yet been shopping on Black Friday because, if I wanted to be trampled for a cheap DVD player, I would just ask for a ticket home and try to board a local commuter train during rush hour, which could more aptly be called crush hour.
Back to the point: ask any child - the main reason we have Thanksgiving is to eat turkey. Just imagine, if Benjamin Franklin had had his way, and the turkey were our national bird, would we have dared to eat it? Wouldn’t we have set our tables with roast eagle instead? Eagle and stuffing on Givingthanks Day – see how wrong it all sounds?
According to The Franklin Institute (http://www.fi.edu/franklin/birthday/faq.html), he wrote in a letter to his daughter:
For my own part I wish the Eagle had not been chosen the representative of our country. He is a bird of bad moral character. He does not get his Living honestly. You may have seen him perched on some dead tree near the river, where, too lazy to fish for himself, he watches the labor of the Fishing Hawk; and when that diligent Bird has at length taken a fish, and is bearing it to his nest for the support of his mate and young ones, the Eagle pursues him and takes it from him.With all this injustice, he is never in good case but like those among men who live by sharping & robbing he is generally poor and often very lousy. Besides he is a rank coward: The little King Bird not bigger than a Sparrow attacks him boldly and drives him out of the district. He is therefore by no means a proper emblem...
Regardless of the bird to be cooked, I suspect I would have my share of troubles. The other day when I had baked a chicken, I was for once complimented on the juiciness of the bird. I suppose ultimately the bird should have been thanked; my part of the credit lay simply in not having desiccated the bird to a double death. Living in our Purell®-obsessed society, I end up destroying the bird along with the bacteria I hope to decimate. Had I lived thousands of years ago, my sheer ability to dehydrate dead fowl would have earned me a direct ticket to be an embalmer in Pharaoh’s courts.
Although my turkey baking techniques may not give me license to give advice on the Butterball helpline, I would have to be the Most Improved Turkey Baker. Eons ago, when I worked outside the home in Long Island (I’m trying to recognize here that every mother is a working one, regardless of occupation and income), the company had a policy of handing out turkeys to at Thanksgiving. As with any workplace, several turkeys were already employed there, but they masqueraded as humans well enough to escape every November. For weeks before, the dilemma was discussed: should you checkmark and request a kosher turkey that would be smaller, but was rumored to be vastly superior in taste to its ill-bred cousin?
Just before Thanksgiving, lugging this behemoth to the car, I often felt I was carrying a weapon in the form of a huge frozen bird. I would buckle it into a seat, not so much for its safety as my own. I was wary of having to hit the brakes on the Long Island Expressway and suffering internal injuries – those received within the interior of the vehicle when this cryogenic creature might hurtle forward to take its revenge. You never knew when the driver ahead of you might need to stop short in order to turn the page of the newspaper he was reading.
The first time I baked a turkey, imagine my surprise afterwards at finding that neat little pouch in the neck cavity, filled with all sorts of interesting parts. This was back in the days when I bought Rice-A-Roni and Tuna Helpers. I wouldn’t say that I had NO culinary skills then, but that’s cutting it very close. Of course, it helps if you read. And while I have always loved to read, instructions have never topped my list of favorites.
Even if the turkey had been our national bird, I doubt Benjamin Franklin would have frowned on our eating it. In demonstrating the uses of electricity, he tried to “nuke” a turkey at a picnic once, but received a severe shock himself. Not only was the man a statesman, an inventor, a polyglot, a writer, an avid swimmer, and founder of public libraries and firehouses, he was also a bit dangerous. (And all this on just two years of formal education, from age eight to ten.) Of course, he had other ideas that we have not adopted, such as his air baths. Recognizing the importance of fresh air, he would fling open his (hopefully, upper-story) windows and spend thirty to sixty minutes (depending on the season) reading or writing in the nude. And no, this is not an invitation to run around to look up nudist resorts.
In addition to my immediate and extended family and friends, I have much for which to give thanks. I am glad to live in an era with electricity, indoor plumbing, public sanitation, immunization to dreaded diseases, global communication, anesthesia, aseptic surgeries, and the possibility of traveling almost anywhere in the world. Most of all, I’m thankful for my God who forgives my daily failings, or I would not have the courage to rise every day that He allots to me.
I wish you and your loved ones safe travel home after a wonderful Thanksgiving. Count your blessings, and not the calories. And even if your pants won’t buckle, don’t forget to buckle up your seatbelts as well as those of any turkeys riding along with you.
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