It was early Thanksgiving morning and a light snow coated the ground.This wasn’t the powdery mid-winter snow of late December or January but rather an early winter wet snow, the kind you find late in November, the kind that on a sunny day would be gone by noon. My Mom was busy in the kitchen making the stuffing for our Thanksgiving dinner while my Dad sat at the breakfast counter eating a bowl of cereal with a sliced banana. A steaming cup of coffee sat next to him. Occasionally he would glance out the window at the house across the street looking for some sign of activity.

         He was wearing a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of canvas pants. Perched on his balding head was was bright orange cap that had seen better days. In the corner of the kitchen stood two double barrel shotguns and two well worn canvas coats that smelled of a wonderful mix of the earthy smells of autumn, hunting dogs and sweat. I hurriedly downed a glass of orange juice, ate a banana and scrambled to get dressed for our annual Thanksgiving hunting trip.

         Across the street our neighbor, Walter, appeared from around the back of his house. Similarly dressed to my dad he cradled a shotgun in one arm and led two excited barking beagles on leashes with the other. We hurriedly gathered our gear and met him at the back of the house. The snow had already started to melt and drip from the roof. While Mom busied herself with preparing our Thanksgiving dinner, Walter, my Dad and I climbed the hill behind the house beginning with the abandoned railroad grade.Once we were well clear of the homes Walter released the dogs and we spent the morning following them through the woods.

          The rising temperatures and the morning sun caused the snow to melt and fall from overhead tree branches. Occasionally it would find that space between the back of your hunting hat and the collar of your coat making its icy presence known on your neck. The dogs, closer to the snow covered ground, were soon soaked, though the wagging tails and excited barks showed they didn’t mind at all.

         Some of our shots were successful and some were not.We laughed at those. We walked across old mine dumps and through large patches of briars.We got scratched, sweaty and sore. We didn’t mind. Sometimes the woods would open up and as the morning progressed we stopped at one of the artesian flows to use a collapsible metal cup for a drink. If we were lucky one of us would pull a Hershey bar or maybe an apple from one of the many pockets in our coat and we would share it.

          At noon we would call it a day, call the dogs in and head back down to the railroad grade. We’d follow that back to our homes, leaving just enough time for us to get cleaned up for dinner. From the moment we walked into the house we were overwhelmed by the many smells of Thanksgiving dinner. They easily overwhelmed the smells of autumn, hunting, dogs and sweat.

          Today, as I sit down for dinner with my wife at a local restaurant, I know I will give thanks for my family and for the experiences they provided that have made me who I am today.
          Happy Thanksgiving everyone. No matter where you are at, or what you are doing today, may your thoughts take you, for just a few moments, to family and friends, to a time when your life was filled with simple joys.
 

         Several weeks ago my wife and I were headed out of town on a one day excursion. We stopped at Burger King on the way out of town so my wife could grab some breakfast. I had already eaten but since it was going to be a long drive, I figured I’d get a cup of hot tea to sip on going down the road. We went through the drive through. After placing my wife’s order I ordered a LARGE cup of hot tea. The speaker crackled and a voice came back telling me they didn’t have a “large” in hot tea, that they only offered a small and a medium. I opened my mouth to say that would do, when the question arose in my mind, If you have a MEDIUM size cup of tea, doesn’t that imply that you also have a “LARGE?” I posed the very same question to the crackling speaker/microphone. Silence.

         Eventually a different voice simply replied, “No.” Having eaten my Wheaties that morning, I couldn’t help myself and I responded, “Well then, if you don’t have a large but only have a small and medium, doesn’t that by default make your medium a large, meaning that what you actually have is a LARGE and a SMALL and you don’t really have a MEDIUM?” Silence. Eventually a slightly exasperated voice again relied, “No.”

         At this point my wife was also becoming exasperated with me and told me to knock it off. I wasn’t quite ready to yet. Another thought had entered my devious mind. I asked the crackling speaker (which I swear had little wisps of smoke emanating from it) “Can I order a LARGE coffee?” “Yes.” was the reply. “Can I order a MEDIUM coffee?” Again I received a “Yes.” Can I order a SMALL coffee? And one more time I received a “Yes”.
“Well then,” I asked, “why don’t you just make the large tea in the large coffee cup?”

         “We just don’t.” was the reply. I then asked. “Why are you discriminating against tea drinkers?” No response.

         Finally another voice got on the speaker and proceeded to ignore my last question. The voice proceeded to read back to me my order including the three cups of coffee and finished with, “Will there be anything else, Sir?”

         At this point my wife was trying to hide under the seat. I said, “I don’t want the coffees. I don’t like coffee.”

         “Would you still like the MEDIUM tea, SIR?”

         “Nope, I’ll just have a cup of hot chocolate instead.” I replied

         I’m not sure why, but we’ve been going to McDonalds since then.