Turkey Notes, Part #2

After Thanksgiving, when you read my post about "Turkey Notes" -- you may have pictured a large happy family, sitting around the dining room table, coming up with creative ideas and enjoying the time they were spending together.


Not quite. Although everything I told you is 100% TRUE -- Here's the REST of the story...(Gee -- I miss Paul Harvey)...

Yes, Amy and Kay do go to a lot of work to set up our "Turkey Note" activity. Kay brings tons of stickers and scrapbooking supplies -- including a little "picture printer"...

But -- NOBODY WANTS TO DO IT. We act like Amy is trying to pull our teeth out. People don't want to have their picture taken...small kids pitch fits...adults turn their heads or cover their faces...there is ACTUAL POUTING....


Then -- NOBODY can think of a rhyme. Writing a poem is a complete alien activity. Something we NEVER do in our daily lives...we are no good at it...so we pitch fits and whine some more... it takes A LOT OF COAXING to get any level of participation...

This year, Amy's son, Cale, 10, asked, (yes, whining...) "Why do we have to do turkey notes, Mom?"

And she was thinking about his question...

After dinner -- exasperated, Amy asked, "So -- should I continue to insist on doing this? Why should I make everybody miserable year after year?"

Why indeed?

I suggested Amy bring out her substantial collection of "Turkey Albums" from earlier years. It took a little time to find them...but then...

We all sat at that dining room table -- leafing through the past albums -- which captured our families on this ONE SPECIAL day of a year. The pictures and the ridiculous turkey note verses told a big story. Many stories, as a matter of fact.

In 2009, Amy was babysitting a relative's beloved dog -- and we spent the day searching the property because the dog was GONE. (he was found ten days later, no worse for wear). But none of us would have remembered that funny story if it hadn't been for the silly turkey notes...

A few years ago, I weighed over 300 pounds...yikes...I hardly recognized myself.

2006 was our last Thanksgiving with Ambrose. He was only seven when he died of leukemia... and all of us who loved that little boy opened those Turkey note albums, hoping to see a picture of him...

So that's why you do it, Amy. Even when we bitch and moan. You do it because you know that time is a fleeting thing. And life is full of changes -- good and bad. It's about happy and sad and knowing that nothing stays the same...not ever...and you never know who will or won't be at next year's Thanksgiving dinner.

Any time the whining starts to get to you -- remember that one day -- you will be my age and your boys will be grown men showing old turkey note albums to their children, telling them about these "good old days" and what a great time they had making turkey notes...