Uncle Gene Shops for the Thanksgiving Turkey

(Painting courtesy of Norman Rockwell; our hostess Aunt Kathleen never looked old like the hostess here.  She would have been wearing a late-style dress and real jewelry.)

Cousin Dave reports as follows:  

     It could happen!

     My dad [Gene] had the responsibility one year of getting a huge turkey for a Sampson family gathering of all his brothers and kids at our house. Mom kept reminding him of this as Thanksgiving day grew nearer. My dad finally got tired of her reminding him about the sixth time she did so, and he said – or rather shouted – something at her like “Goddamn it Kathleen; don’t remind me any more. I will take care of it!!!!”

     Well, sure enough, Dad woke up the day before Thanksgiving and remembered he needed to get the turkey – which he, of course, had forgotten about. Realizing he would have been a dead man for certain if he hadn’t remembered, he went down to the market and found out, much to his chagrin, that all the larger turkeys had been previously sold. He then had to drive about 30 miles from Coos Bay to a turkey ranch in Bridge, Oregon, where he hoped the turkey rancher, an old friend of his, might still have a turkey or two for sale. When he arrived, his friend told him he was out of luck; he didn’t even have any brood stock left; all were gone and for dad, it looked like all was lost.

     His friend then said, well, what about a big piglet? I have a few that weigh about 40 pounds and that ought to be enough for Thanksgiving dinner, and ham is as acceptable as turkey, isn’t it? Dad bought that premise in an instant and profusely thanked his friend for saving the day, and, perhaps, his life. With that they went over to the sty, and dad and the farmer went in to select the piglet. Dad looked around, and then, looking at the biggest of the bunch, pointed at it and told his friend the turkey rancher, "I will take this one."

     As dad bent over to pick the piglet up to carry it over to be slaughtered, the piglet suddenly swerved away, turning rapidly around, and then charged dad, opening his mouth to show a gigantic set of fang-like teeth, and bit him on the leg above the ankle. Dad screamed out and kicked his foot out as hard as he could, trying to dislodge the piglet’s giant teeth from his ankle.

     This violent kick sent my mom flying out of bed onto the floor where she woke up, stunned as to why Dad had kicked her out of the bed. 

     The first and final paragraph in this story of Sampson lore are absolutely true.

Dave