THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 19, 1995 TAG: 9511170335
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J3 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: GEORGE TUCKER
LENGTH: Medium: 76 lines
Maybe it was because my family was not hidebound by tradition, but I can't recall eating turkey for Thanksgiving until I was well up in my teens. But don't get the idea that my folks were underprivileged or didn't celebrate the annual gastronomic binge with gusto.
My maternal grandparents, whom the various ramifications of our clan usually joined for Thanksgiving dinner, were natives of Maryland's Eastern Shore, an area celebrated for good eating. That, in itself, presupposed they were dedicated to the principle of enjoying the good things of this world while preparing for the dubious ones of the next.
But eating turkey at Thanksgiving, I learned to my sorrow, was not a traditional practice as far as the ``Sho'' was concerned.
Thanksgiving, as a holiday, didn't mean much to me until I was a second-grader at Robert Gatewood School in Berkley. There my teacher, a dedicated New England spinster, devoted a good deal of pre-holiday time to indoctrinating our class in the history and traditions associated with the first Thanksgiving celebrated by the Pilgrims at Plymouth, Mass., in 1621.
To get us in the proper mood, she encouraged us to make our own Pilgrim costumes to be worn during the school's re-enactment of the earlier event the day before the holiday, and she plastered the schoolroom walls and blackboards with pictures and colored chalk drawings of strutting turkeys with fanned out tail feathers and crimson wattles.
I can still recall the concentration I bestowed on fashioning my Pilgrim hat out of black construction paper. And by the time I had gotten the knack of cutting out a broad white collar from poster board, I felt I was a relatively authentic 20th century version of the kind of boy who would have latched onto a turkey drumstick at the 1621 Plymouth affair.
So insistent was our teacher that turkey and Thanksgiving were synonymous, I had every reason to believe I would be feasting on roasted gobbler when my parents took me to my grandparents.
As a special indulgence my mother let me wear my Pilgrim hat and collar for the occasion. When I finally converged on the groaning board with the rest of the family, I was all set to enjoy the traditional bird and trimmings.
But there was no richly browned bird ensconced on a platter in the place of honor. Instead, my nostrils were assailed with the combined odors of a gargantuan crown roast of pork, an enormous chicken pot pie and a clove-decorated country ham accompanied by side dishes of mashed potatoes, collards, candied yams, celery, hot rolls, brandied peaches and watermelon rind pickle.
Since I was hungry, I tucked my napkin into my Pilgrim collar and did justice to a piled up plate, hoping my grandmother was saving the turkey for a second course. When that didn't take place, I dutifully polished off my meal with a dish of ambrosia - that wonderful old fashioned Southern dessert made of oranges, sugar and fresh grated coconut - and a generous slice of Lady Baltimore cake.
By then my elders had had enough of their youngster's yackings and I, along with the other small fry, were excused from the table. Instead of joining in the noisy games my cousins began to play, however, I decided to ponder on what had happened to the anticipated turkey. This went on until my grandmother discovered me sitting on the stair landing as she went up to her bedroom for a much needed digestive tablet.
``Why aren't you playing with the other children?'' she asked.
``I'm thinking,'' I replied.
``Thinking of what?'' she wanted to know.
``On why you didn't have turkey for dinner like the Pilgrims ate at their first Thanksgiving,'' I whined.
There was a momentary silence. Then my grandmother gave a snort that would have put the Bull of Bashan to shame. After that, she finished me off with this broadside: ``You've been paying too much attention to that Yankee teacher's nonsense!'' ILLUSTRATION: Drawing
The turkey, a Thanksgiving icon to many, had no place at this
holiday dinner.
by CNB