When I was a lad in North Dakota, Thanksgiving was a true feast day.
A huge turkey was acquired from a farmer, killed and plucked and I remember Dad singeing it with a rolled up burning newspaper to get rid of pin feathers, then putting it in a big roasting pan and tossing it in the oven for what seemed like days.
The house would fill with the aroma of turkey and all the sides that Mom would create.
When it was time to eat we all gathered around the table and Dad would carve the bird right in front of us, filling each of a stack of plates and passing them around the table so we could "load up" on the mashed potatoes and gravy, sweet potatoes or yams, dressing (or in those days "stuffing), green bean casserole, cranberries, rolls and butter, and whatever other wonders had appeared from the kitchen.
Later there was pumpkin pie and whipped cream (not the stuff from a can).
I couldn't find it but somewhere I have a photo of one of those memorable occasions.
It was a great day.
But I was just thinking how much simpler it would have been if I had grown up in Hawaii instead of North Dakota.
