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
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