The second thanksgiving I had for my twelfth or thirteenth birthday was my most memorable and favorite childhood meal.

Mother asked me, “What do you want for your birthday dinner?”

I half jokingly said, “Thanksgiving.”

She didn’t seem to get the joke (I was hopeful she wouldn’t anyway) and before I knew it things were in full swing a few days before my birthday. A giant iced butterball was thawing in our extra fridge and my father was putting together all the ingredients to make home made croissants. They did it that way. Dad always did the baking and Mom did most of the heavy stuff. Even in home repairs it was my Mom we bought the tool box for.

Thanksgiving was always a standard spread. I can’t think of anytime that we deviated from the normal recipe list:

  • Turkey
  • Stuffing Homemade inside the Bird
  • Wilted Red leaf Lettuce Salad with Bacon and Sour Cream
  • Mashed Potatoes
  • Corn
  • Green Beans
  • Gravy
  • Rolls/Croissants
  • Stuff Mushroom Appetizer (the best)
  • Vegetable Platter of sorts
  • Potato Chips
  • Ranch Dressing Dip
  • French Onion Dip
  • Salsa
  • Sweet Potatoes with sugar and butter
  • Pumpkin Pie
  • Apple Pie
  • Banana Cream Pie (the best)

The ritual never changed either and on my Birthday it was no different. My Mom would wake up at like 5am to put the turkey on. The lettuce was soaked in salt water and a whole loaf of bread was torn apart into a big stainless steel bowl for the stuffing. They were like that though (my parents). They were both from the old school and things rarely changed. Much of that was passed down to me.

In many ways my upbringing was very a traditional “Leave it to Beaver” when it came to the way our home life was conducted and the values I was taught. Some of the biggest pet peeves I have (and my little family unit can attest to this) is table manners and having dinner together at the table almost everyday.

The meal went off as most thanksgivings do. We ate our faces off and it was glorious. I can’t even remember what the present were or if we had cake but damn do I remember delicious turkey and dressing.

April 17th, 2015

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February 22nd, 2009

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As of about 5:53am this morning I turned 25 years old.  I think this is the first birthday where it just felt like a regular day.  Probably an indicator I’m getting ancient.  Next the memory goes and I will just … wait what was I doing here? … oh yea.

So I’m being challenged to write an Epic Poem in heroic verse using an iambic pentameter with 5 feet.  The kicker is that it needs to be 1000 to 2000 words which I find to be very intimidating but also EPIC should I complete one.

I used to scoff at poetry, mainly because all I was exposed  to were the ancient verses that made no sense and the useless rambles of the emotional self proclaimed poets of my teenage days.

example:

“… The knife cuts, oh so deep

My days blacken into night.

I can not even count the sheep,

Lord save me from my plight….”

Yea… whatever you say James err I mean “Dark Lord Con.”  Real poetry is very technical in nature.  That is the challenge of writing good poetry.  There is also the challenge of people not knowing how to read poetry and appreciating what you have done.  Now I’m rambling – better cut this off.

other notes:

My Week 2 Assignment in my Fiction class unfortunately had me writing a bit for my novel and I’m just not ready to show the world that yet.  So hopefully week 3 will yield something I can share.

February 22nd, 2009

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