By Leslie (with apologies to Richard Scarry)
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It always has been. Nowadays my children and grandchildren join us for a mini-family reunion, usually over three days. They come from Portland and Philadelphia, and this year, as most, Mother Nature blessed us with warm, sunny weather, leaving snow in their climes.
In years gone by, St Louis was our home, and family and friends and students gathered round our spacious table. The year before we moved to Tucson, Thanksgiving offered a bit more excitement than usual. After my husband had driven off to pick up his mother at her Assisted Living home, I was left to keep watch on the very large bird he had dressed and started roasting, as well as complete the rest of the fixings – veggies and dessert, etc. My husband called when at his mother’s to check on the turkey’s “progress.” I noted that it didn’t look any different than when he had popped it in the oven and, in fact, noted that the oven didn’t seem very warm. Bill horridly returned home. The ancient oven had finally died. We tried our neighbors on either side of us – neither was home. But, necessity truly became the mother of invention. On the side of our main oven was a small narrow oven meant for baking pies. Bill emptied and removed its racks and stood our turkey vertically in the oven. Miraculously, this side worked and the turkey was roasted, albeit in a most unusual manner. It was delicious, simply the best Thanksgiving turkey we have ever had!