WADE'S WORLD by Wade Longworth
THANKSGIVING MEMORIES With Thanksgiving Day only a few weeks away, I can almost smell turkey roasting, rolls rising and the spicy aroma of pumpkin pie wafting through the house. These smells, whether real or imaginary, always elicit memories of childhood and home sweet home. Even though I know the holiday is coming every year; I am still taken back to those fond memories when I awake to the savory aroma of a turkey roasting in the oven. One of my favorite memories was bundling up with a long sleeve, sweatpants, and a stocking cap to meet the neighbors for a game of back yard football‌or Turkey Bowl as we used to call it. Growing up in the Midwest it seemed like it was always cloudy and a bit brisk with just the right amount of wind to keep a chill through the body. Perfect for football. We all played at the local high school field in front of empty bleachers, and while the food was cooking we would meet to join in a friendly football game. However, things would always turn competitive and less friendly before the turkey was ready. Quite frankly we were lucky there were no serious head injuries or broken bones because the game was always played full tackle. The league was also indifferent to the field conditions, which were usually either muddy or frozen depending on when winter decided to arrive. After a couple hours of running around, making big catches, and trying some Heisman like stiff arms we all would pack it up and head back to our respective houses. After being out in the dry cold weather it was always comforting to take a hot shower, put on fresh sweats, and settle in for an afternoon of feasting with family. Sitting down at the large wooden table surrounded by family the indulging would start with whatever dish was closest to you (hopefully stuffing). One by one the green bean casserole, turkey, and mashed potatoes would be passed along finally layering the whole plate in smooth rich gravy. After a few hearty conversations and time for the meal to settle the focus always turned to desert. It was always a sure bet that, by the end of the afternoon, an empty plate with only crumbs remaining would be accompanied by a warm body peacefully resting on the couch with football on in the background. PAGE 13
