November 2, 1977 by R.T. Trimmer With the holiday season approaching here in our corner of the Garden Spot County, it seemed like a good time to get out and dust off some of the more memorable home-cooked Thanksgiving dinners of the past. I particularly remember a Thanksgiving dinner of about fifteen years ago. It was my second year with my first wife (actually, she’s my present wife, but the phrase does seem to keep her on her toes.) She comes from good Lancaster County stock just outside Mount Joy (boy, do they know how to eat!) and we had been invited to the farm for the big dinner. My brother (ol’ hip-shot Tom) had just been pardoned from the U.S. Army and was looking for some good home cooking too. Well, after all, he had just spent twenty-seven months tour- ing such resort areas as Oklahoma, west Texas, New Jersey’s swamps, and Schweinfurt, Germany. Af- ter a long two years of beef and beer, we felt Tom should try something with feathers. And thereby hangs our tale. Sneaky, hunh? Wednesday evening we got a call from Arlene’s mother. Arlene is the wife I mentioned earlier, just to clarify the records. We were to help provide the Thanksgiving dinner! Ar- riving in the dark, chilly night, we were all promptly introduced to Brunhilda, thirty pounds of hissing, foul-smelling, evil-temper- ed female goose. Tom and I had been presented with the problem of arranging for the assasimetien and butchering of Brunhilda (about the equivalent of a clout on the ear with a splintery board!). Trapping the goose in the floodlit barnyard, the family settled down on fence rails to Ha-Ha their way through our Roman Circus. After ten minutes of wrestling that honking horror, 1 would cheerfully have bitten her head off, if I could have held on! We were bloodied, muddied, winded, and so spattered with fertilizer, we could have been rolled into a nearby field and plowed Pacemaker Club to meet under. “Shoot ’er!”’ Pop sug- gested happily. The tears in his eyes and the stitch in his side brought him to more violent thought than his natural attitude. “In the head if you do,” Mom insisted. ‘‘If you spoil the meat, you'll get roast beef tomorrow.”’ Well, since Tom and 1 are the naturally gifted outdoor types we are, this seemed more in keeping with our talents. But fifty shots later, we hadn’t ruffled a feather of that elusive beast. Arlene was almost helpless with laugh- ter. ‘Okay smarty, d’ya SUSQUEHANNA TIMES - Page 7 Death of a Turkey know why they don’t send donkeys to college?’ 1 panted. ‘Can you do any better?’ Dropping from the fence, she took the pistol I offered «smugly knowing she prob- ably had never fired a handgun before in her life), calmly sighted along the barrel, and deftly blew both eyes out of that crummy bird with one shot! We wasted more meat chasing Brurhilda for ten minutes. Farmgirl! We picked the feathers in deep, red-faced silence. Brunhilda sure tasted good the next day, though! Don Hess and Abe Weidman of - Done gal Auto Exchange invite you to visit them at their October 31 thru November 5 R.D. 2, Route 230 - 1 mile West of Mount Joy The Pacemaker Club will one who has a pacemaker, meet on Nov. 2nd at the or is interested, may Stauffer Mansion on Lititz attend. Pike near Lancaster. Any- November, 1977 60 cents How Lancaster County parents name babies Why Lancaster County schools waste $55,000 a year on vans for teachers Why religious women are better lovers * Modern private eye uses super-spy lie detector Susquehanna Magazine * Industrial paradise in Harrisburg » Warm fashions Be sure to register at the Grand Opening for a free AUTOMOBILE drawing Nov. 5 Charles Demuth: He was one of America's greatest artists, but Lancaster ignored him. Susquehanna Magazine NEW on your newsstand NOW ONLY 60°
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