POP WAS MY HERO Emilio Paletta Author copyright 2008 My journey began on a cold wintery night in 1929. The exact date was November 26 th__ a date my mom will never forget. You see, that was the night I first appeared. I was born right on Thanksgiving, which to me was quite special. Oh I guess there are those who might say, Whats the big deal......thousands of babies are born on Thanksgiving? That may be true__ but in my case it was totally different. My destiny was predetermined the minute I was conceived. How can that be, you ask? The answers quite simple.You see unlike you, Im a turkey and unless youre one too, youve no idea what its like knowing someday when laid to rest, it will be on someones dining room table. Mom told me it was so cold that evening, that after hatching, my skin was covered over with goose bumps.... Go figure! My parents, were the late Tom and Penny Fowler. They lived on a farm in the Poconos; owned by the Mac Donald family. Join with me as we journey back to a time when mom was just a young chick__ living at home with her family. Aside from her parents she had siblings. Four sisters and five brothers, two of which were twins. Her sisters names were Eeeny, Meeny, Miney, and Mo. The three oldest boys were named after grandpa; Tom I, Tom II, Tom III and the twins names were Hanky and Panky. The twins got there names from Old Mac Donald. Before they were born, hed kid pop saying, Hey Tom, cut out all the hanky panky, its costing me a fortune to feed your family. Old photos Ive seen of mom when she was a young girl, showed her to be a real knockout. With a long slim neck, beautiful black eyes and a large firm bosom, she cut quite a figure. All the boys would stare whenever mom waddled around the barnyard. Mom came from a long line of domesticated birds. Whereas pop was a wild an crazy guy. Before settling down, he was hunted day and night never knowing when hed end up in the sights of game hunters. Junior! as mom would say,Your pop was a real handsome bird. He had colorful flaps of skin around his neck called wattles. Thats what attracted me. After keeping company several months we tied the knot and not long after, I was in a family way. When you were born, proud as can be, he would strut around the barnyard doing the Turkey Trot. To tell the truth junior, my family was not particularly happy about our mixed marriage, but your father and I just didnt give a hoot, we were hopelessly in love. All our barnyard friends were delighted as was Old Mac Donald. Although we were of different breeding we were able to talk turkey, weather necking or pecking Their barnyard friends told me that pop and mom loved dancing. During weekly barn-dances they ed kick their heels and do-si-do to the tune of Turkey In The Straw. Mon said, Unlike the domesticated Toms, photograph of a turkeyyour pop was capable of flying 55 miles an hour and able to run at speeds of twenty-five. He was quite a Casanova, as well. In the early evening he could be heard gobbling for miles away; whenever he serenaded me. Ill let you in on another little secret junior, your pop was no slouch. He was a born leader who was not only resourceful, but extremely trustworthy and intelligent. Yes junior, mom said, Your pop earned a reputation for courage under fire. It was easy to understand considering his great, great, great grandfather once was suggested by Ben Franklin to be the national bird; instead of the eagle! After I came along pop took me under his wing. He kept me abreast of things, teaching me the rudiments of living in the wild and the art of outsmarting game hunters. He explained how our ancestors migrated from far off Turkey, coming to America in their struggle for a better existence. Life on the farm was quiet and serene; that was until the Great Depression hit; just before Thanksgiving. Old Mac Donald had a look of anguish on his face as he gathered the barnyard boys. Fellas he said, Im afraid I have some bad news. Im running short of money and taxes are due. If I dont meet my note, Ill loose the farm. I have no choice but to sell one of each species. The words no sooner fell from his lips, when the domesticated birds turned chicken. Noting their fear, pop was first to step up to the plate, knowing all to well he was placing his neck on the chopping block. At that moment I never felt prouder. To lay down ones life so others may live, is the supreme sacrifice. Pop was my hero. Though saddened mom stood by her Tom as she fought to hold back the tears. Shortly after pops demise mom died of a broken heart. As for me I still live on the farm and now have a family of my own. Old Mac Donald has since passed leaving the property to his son Young Mac Donald. I know that someday when my numbers up I too will follow in my beloved fathers footsteps and when I do, Id like my epitaph to read: HERE LIES TOM JR, A TOUGH OLD BIRD, WHO LIKE HIS POP GAVE HIS LIFE SO THAT OTHERS MIGHT HAVE A BLESSED AND HAPPY THANKSGIVING. neversayuncle paletta4788@aol
Posted on: Wed, 27 Nov 2013 16:03:54 +0000
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