Friday, November 22 2002

By Rick Ryckeley
Fayette County Fire & Emergency Services

The early morning sun came through the bedroom window blinds, warming my face. A slight breeze slipped past the cracked window and tickled my neck, trying to awaken me. Turning over to avoid the light I glanced at the clock. "That's strange," I thought. "Its eight-thirty ­ I'm gonna be late for school."

Then the smell of fresh baked bread drifted into the room. The oven door opened and closed, mom was humming, and the scent of hot pumpkin pie filled the air. Lying in bed, halfway between dreamland and slumberland, I heard plates being put on the table and glasses clanking in the distance. With my blankie pulled up around my neck, I realized that this was not a school day.

Today was a special day; one that comes around but once a year. The very day I've been waiting for.

It was no one's birthday, no presents will be given, and no presents will be received. It's wasn't that kind of occasion ­ not that kind of day. The screen door on the front porch slammed shut, and I heard the muffled voice of Neighbor Thomas's Mom. I remembered ­ she promised last week to come over and help cook and get everything ready for the afternoon meal. Neighbor Thomas and his family will eat with us that day; his dad was out of town on business.

That's was just one of the reasons why today was gonna be special, 'cause today was Turkey Day at our house. But more importantly, at age seven, it was finally my turn to carve the bird!

I got up, dressed, ran down stairs and started to help (get in the way) in the kitchen. The pumpkin pie and bread that I had smelled were sitting on the cooling racks next to the window. Thomas's mom had just put a dozen eggs on to boil. When she saw me, she said she wanted me to help her (help her keep me out of the way). She made the best deviled eggs in town, and this was the first time she was going to tell her secret recipe.

After boiling the eggs and letting them cool in water, she told me to peel them (I got most of the shells off). Then Thomas's mom cut them in half, scooped out the yokes, and put them in a mixing bowl. She diced an onion (sweet Vidalia, of course) and added a large spoonful of mayonnaise, brown mustard, and sweet pickle relish. I mixed it all up and spooned it back into the egg halves. Then the most important part came ­ I got to lick the spoon. Thomas's mom sprinkled a little paprika on top of each one to finish them off. She then put them in the refrigerator till it was time for me to cut the turkey that afternoon.

Even though I was only seven years old and the turkey was almost as big as me, cutting it would be no problem. Dad had seen to that. He bought a two-speed electric knife the week before Thanksgiving and told me that I would be the first one to try it out. Dad said, "This electric knife is so sharp that it can cut right through a beer can." Knowing us kids the way he did, Dad hid the knife in a place none of us would think to look, behind the dishes in the china cabinet.

Yes, cutting the turkey would be no problem this year and I would be the first one in the family to use the new electric knife ­ or so I thought. When Big Brother James and Older Brother Richard found out about the two-speed electric knife, they wanted to be the first ones to try it out. Dad told them they would just have to wait till next year.

Well, come to find out, they didn't want to wait. That morning, before I got up, Big Brother James and Older Brother Richard snuck downstairs, got the electric knife out of the china cabinet where dad had hid it (Dad hid everything in the china cabinet when we were growing up) and headed for the basement. While I was upstairs in the kitchen watching Thomas's mom cut eggs in half, Big Brother James and Older Brother Richard were downstairs in the basement seeing what the two-speed electric knife could cut in half.

They first cut up a plastic drinking straw, then a school pencil, my pool stick, and an old plastic pipe. Big Brother James used the electric knife to cut The Sister's jump rope in half and cut the handle off of one of Dad's new hammers. Older Brother Richard used the electric knife and cut a Coke can in half, which would have made much less of a mess if they had just thought to drink it first. They even used the knife to cut holes in our Industrial Strength Reninforced Cardboard Refrigerator Box! Then they quietly snuck back upstairs and returned the two-speed electric knife to its hiding place in the china cabinet. Four hours later, it was my time to use the knife.

At two in the afternoon everyone came together and sat at the table which was covered with pumpkin pie, home baked bread, cranberry sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, deviled eggs, and of course a 22-pound turkey hot out of the oven. As plates were passed around to me, I was supposed to put a slice or two of turkey on them. Even on high speed, the best that the two-speed electric knife could do was to shred the turkey into little pieces. Thanks to Big Brother James and Older Brother Richard, we all ate minced turkey for Thanksgiving that year.

The next day Dad returned the two-speed-electric-knife, got his money back, and vowed never to buy one again. That was the last time I can remember Dad owning an electric knife; it was also the last time I got to carve the family turkey.

[Rick Ryckeley is employed by the Fayette County Department of Fire and Emergency Services. He can be reached at firemanr@bellsouth.net.]

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