  Comedy
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This time of year stirs up many memories of past holiday seasons. I grew up in a time when television offered three channels in black and white, took forever to heat up and just as long to shut down at the end of the Star Spangled Banner. Holidays, can offer humor never to be forgotten. |
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I still laugh when I think about one particular Thanksgiving in my youth. I learned a valuable lesson about food that day. That turkey in the refrigerated section of the grocery store or butcher shop was alive and running around at one time. 
I remember my father always going to an Italian meeting place called the Rocky Club. "Rocky" was the nickname of Saint Rocco. I really can't tell you if a Saint Rocco existed, however, if he did, how would he feel about a drinking, gambling, fighting establishment being named after him? 
The Rocky Club did have its charitable moments. Each year money was raised for a children's Christmas party. The children all received gifts and treats along with a visit from Santa Claus.  There were also times that money was raised for an unfortunate cancer victim who needed financial help for treatments. Thus, the club was not always a den of sin.
At one of these social events, raffle tickets were sold. Thanksgiving was drawing near and the grand prize of the night was the most desired holiday turkey. I saw my father clinging to that ticket, almost staring straight through it with his piercing black eyes. The man at the microphone began calling out the winning number. I saw the thumb moving along the ticket, number by number until all of a sudden a deep voice yelled out ... a few choice words of thanks, using the Lord's name, followed by, "I won, I won the bleepin' turkey!" (Only he didn't say bleepin'.) 
The whole family stood up and cheered. Yes, there would be a free turkey for Thanksgiving. The man on the stage asked my father to come up and claim his prize. He waited while the man went backstage and came back with, a live turkey! We looked at each other with dropped jaws, while my shocked father grasped for the bird and held on with dear life. We kids were thinking we had a new pet, my dad was thinking food, my mother was thinking this couldn't end well and yelled, "let it go, let it go!"
Let me tell you something about this turkey, he was in no way receptive to being a captive. The fowl, food fare, started fighting ferociously to break away from the strong arms of my father. It managed to escape and run into the street. It was raining hard that night and the gutters turned into rushing waters, knocking the turkey on his generous backside. My father managed to grab the bird on the run. Our family continued our journey, like some weird parade, for a couple blocks toward our home.
So, where do you put a twenty-five pound Tom? You put him in the bathtub of course! It was a bit creepy to get up in the middle of the night and have to share the bathroom with a noisy, peeping birdzilla who got a little too close for comfort, I might add.
The next day, my father was determined to get rid of the noisy, feathered guest in our tub and brought it to his father. My Papa Giovanni, was born in Italy and knew something about farm life. My father just wanted to know when he could pick up the dinner to be.
Dad came home and promised us kids that the turkey pet was brought to a farm to live out his days safely, quietly and peacefully. My mother knew better and developed a strange stomach ache when Thanksgiving arrived, that left her without an appetite for the previous home and bath guest. My father, well he just devoured the tender, juicy turkey that day. 
In the spirit of the season I must say that a bird in hand does not necessarily mean it will be the bird on the table. As the years wore on, we found out that our little pet for a day escaped the fate of becoming dinner, or at least our dinner. My dear, sweet, grandfather could not bring himself to do the deed. He had a friend at the local butcher shop and brought Mr. Gobbles there. The butcher agreed to take the live one off my Papa's hands. Then, Papa bought a turkey of equal size, plucked, cleaned and ready to bake. Yes folks, sometimes a prize is in the eyes of the beholder.
May you all enjoy the giving of thanks for whomever or whatever makes a difference in your life. Sometimes, the memories will bring a smile.  Other times, you will choose the shortest straw and have to clean bird droppings from an old claw foot tub. 
Until next time--laugh hard, laugh often.
Ta,
WW
WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS AT HOME!
Quick Thaw Turkey Recipe:
Do you have a humorous holiday story to share? Don't be shy, submit it! I will give a Merit Badge for the one that makes me laugh the most.  |
To Duck or Not To Duck ...
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Sharing A Bathroom and Managing to Squeak By!
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Pardon This Parrot's French!
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Maryann 
This is another terrific comedy newsletter. You certainly are good at this.
I really enjoyed reading that funny story! You sound like me with electronics! LOL
I am always glad to see links to people I know in your newsletter...this time it includes
our "WDC Power Reviewers Group" group members, Acme and Jyo.
~~Maryann
Thanks, Maryanne! I am glad you enjoyed the Newsletter. Your Power Reviewers Group rocks! I am also relieved to know that others suffer from the button disability I have. Perhaps we should start a group.
Archie 
Whew. Funny is fun and this newsletter may be the death of me -- laughing is good medicine, but too much laughing does not help much. It is hard to breathe while guffawing and rolling off the bed. Not too good for the laptop, either, when it hits the floor and scoots under the bed!
Keep it up, though. I will be prepared and tie myself down to the bed frame and take hard hold of the laptop next issue.
Oh, goodness, that could be a problem! Maybe you will invent the first computer-to-human seat belt. Just don't put too many buttons on it--you will lose me! Thank you so much for your feedback.
francie
Hi, WW. Your newsletter was a welcome relief in my inbox. I was at the end of the line and your letter pulled me back. Thanks for a bundle of laughs.
I appreciated your editorial part, I think I listened to that radio station once, and it scared me to death. The "Hallelujah" part really put this piece over the edge.
(I like the "uni" story the best of all.)
Thanks so much, Francie! I appreciate your feedback. I think it is a wise thing to pull the stereo's plug whenever those voices from beyond the grave, stories come on the radio. 
I welcome your feedback, submissions and suggestions.
See you next month, folks!
WW |
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Comedy: November 12, 2008 Issue [#2708]
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