Kennebec Journal, Kennebec, ME 11/11/06
4 p.m., a Wilson Pond Road caller reported his mother’s neighbor, who he has a farm property line dispute with, was standing on his lawn with a rifle in his arms, making turkey noises.
“Joe! What are you doing on the lawn with a gun?”
“Just once Mary, I want to have the whole Thanksgiving experience. I want to hunt my own turkey, kill it myself, dress it and cook it. What’s the benefit of living in the country if you can’t have an authentic Thanksgiving once in awhile?”
“I don’t think sitting in a lawn chair with a gun and calling turkeys over from the neighbor’s farm qualifies as a hunting experience. And what do you mean, dress the turkey?”
“Dressing the meat... cut off the head, gut it, pull out the feathers, you know...”
“No, I don’t know and I’m not doing that when I can buy a Butterball at Fred’s Market.”
“It’s all part of the frontier experience, Mary, geez, have a little adventure. I make the kill, bring home the beast and you dress it. Division of labor.”
“If you insist on doing this, you dress it. I’ll cook it, but that’s it.”
“Right. You'll be too busy digging up potatoes and yams for the feast.”
“What potatoes and yams? We don’t have a garden.”
“And turnips. I love turnips.”
“How much of the Discovery Channel have you been watching, Joe? Where are all these crazy ideas coming from?”
“A man has to test himself. He has to know how to survive in the wild, Mary.”
“You wanna test yourself? You wanna survive in the wild? Get in the car, Joe.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s Wednesday morning, Joe. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I’ll show you danger that will make your heart race, thrills that will chill you to the bone, and endurance tests the likes of which you cannot imagine.”
(one half hour later, the parking lot of Fred’s Market)
“Joe...run... grab that last cart! Push that woman down if you have to!”
“I got it!”
“Run for the door, Joe!”
“Oh my gosh, Mary.. I drowning in a sea of people, where are you?”
“I’m here darling! Reach up, grab my hand! Pull me in!”
“Got cha!”
“Push the cart, Joe! Push through the throngs of people to the fresh turkey bins!”
“Hooray, we made it!”
“Reach in the bin, Joe, grab anything you can hold onto and yank it out. Once it’s in the cart, it’s ours!”
“I got one!”
“Onto the stuffing and cranberry sauce, follow me, Joe!”
“I don’t know if I can make it, Mary! You go on without me..”
“No, Joe! We’re in this together. All the way to the checkout line and beyond to the parking lot! Come on, me bucko!”
“Mary, oh Mary....I had no idea. I never appreciated you like I should have. I just want you to know that you’re the best wife....”
“No time for that now, Joe! We’ve got to get to the stuffing and the cranberry sauce. The potatoes are on the way to the Pumpkin pies. We can do it Joe, We can make it if we work together.”
“Not the Pumpkin pies, Mary. We’ll never make it to the Bakery section. Let’s be thankful for what we have and go for the checkout.”
“Chickening out on me Joe? Haven’t got the guts? Where’s the man I married? The man for faces turkeys alone in his yard armed only with a rifle and a lawn chair? Where’s that man?”
“He’s right here baby... with you all the way. Now where’s that Bakery?”
“That way Joe, see the sign?”
“I see it, sweet cheeks. You just get behind me and grab my belt.”
“Oh....Joe....”
“We’re here, Mary, reach out and grab the pies!”
“I got ‘em, Joe! I got two! Head for the checkout!”
“My heart is pounding, Mary. I feel so alive! It’s the thrill of the hunt. I knew I was born to it.”
“Now comes the hard part, Joe. We’re in line. We must survive for two hours while guarding everything in the basket. We can trade with the others for things we missed. I’ll throw my body over the basket, Joe. Watch my back.”
“I got you covered, darlin’, I brought my gun.”
“Oh Joe, you were right. There’s nothing like the thrill of the hunt together!”
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