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The excitement about Thanksgiving was really building that year.Grandma
arrived early with a homemade pecan pie in one hand and a pound cake in the
other.Dad was poking around in a cabinet,searching for his electric carving
knife.Little Lonnie bounced up and down on his diapered bottom,keeping time
to the music.My big brother,Slim,who was anything but slim,sneaked off to
his room with a slice of the pecan pie.Even Fido was wagging his tail.
Mama set the table with real china and real silverware.Then she looked up,
smiling."Help me carry in the food,"she said.Slim,who had come out of his
room by this time,went racing into the kitchen."I'll get it!I'll get it!"he
screamed.The rest of us piled in behind him,with everyone grabbing a pan or a
dish.We placed the pans and dishes on the sideboard and looked up to watch
Dad carry in the biggest,brownest,best-smelling turkey we had ever seen with
Mama's hand under the platter,just in case.Together they lowered the turkey to
its place at the head of the table.
It was the tradition in our family for each of us to think of something for
which we were most thankful.All eyes were on that enormous turkey as we
took our seats at the table.
Yes,everything was perfect except for one thing.That was the one day of the
year when Dad sat at the head of the table and carved the turkey.It was an
honor that he had eagerly anticipated for days in advance.Now Dad was not a
well-coordinated man.He frequently tripped over his own two feet,and he
could be counted on to drop just about anything.He was said to have two left
thumbs,or as Mama sometimes called him,he was a clumsy ox.
That's why we all eased back from the table just a bit when Dad plugged in
the electric carving knife,and we all eased back just a bit more when he tested
it in the air.Dad went to work on the white meat first with surprisingly few
problems.Slice after slice landed neatly on the platter.Dad leaned forward and
grabbed the end of the left turkey leg and cut it off