My husband who always loves a good deal bought our
thanksgiving turkey on sale for 99 cents a pound two weeks ago.
I thawed my dollar store turkey in the sink instead of the
fridge.
When I peeled back the plastic I smelled something I did not
like. No one else smelled it. Last year I did the same thing and it was
REALLY wretched for all to smell so we threw it out and got a new one. Everyone just assumed this was some bizarre
new tradition I was starting. After some intense discussion, my husband went to
find his receipt and call the store to find out if they had any thawed birds.
I began to imagine how hard it would be for my husband to do
that. The day had been so perfect. I did not want him to have to un-relax since
it takes a lot to get him to relax, let alone re-relax. I thought about this turkey having given his
life for our dinner. And suddenly it did
not really smell anymore. I had bonded
with this bird.
I felt a strange kinship as I patted the outside of the
turkey with butter and I even blushed a little as I stuffed this sacrament to
thanksgiving for our family. I even talked
to it as I put it in the oven. Really, I
said, “come on big dude, let’s get you in the oven”. I love animals. (They’re delicious). I don’t have it in me to
be a vegetarian but at least I feel bad if I let myself think about what I am
doing (and I never eat lamb or veal).
But this intimacy with the turkey was heightening my
sensitivities to a new way of thinking. This had been a living creature, not just some white frozen lump from
the store. I began to think that maybe
I was beginning to understand the 4H mentality that had always alluded me. How could they raise an animal and then kill
and eat it? Maybe like our cave
ancestors this is really the enlightened sacred way to eat meat and not take it
for granted. I can still not really
imagine eating my pets or winning ribbons by selling them for others to eat,
but I was closer than I had ever been to understanding that way of life.
No longer was I just making dinner, I was preparing a
sacrifice. I was giving the gift of life
to my family. It was a solemn occasion when I sliced into the flesh of this
blessed bird.
The family thoroughly enjoyed the bird. Though the intensity
with which I set the perfect table and delivered the meal was a bit dysfunctional
for a few tense minutes, soon the family
was laughing and sharing dreams for the coming year and reflections of the year
that had come before. It was a day
blessed with laughter and music and silly string.
That evening I got violently sick.
I guess the bird was bad after all.
I’m the only one who ate the dark meat so I am the only one
who got sick before I threw out all the leftovers. So much for sacred birds, we have a normal
turkey thawing in our fridge to cook tomorrow. I think I’ll watch T.V. while cooking this one.
Comments