Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm taking a little break from the blog at the end of the week as I fly to Buffalo for the World's largest Disco. In anticipation, here's a little Thanksgiving cheer from the New Yorker. Enjoy!



The Turkey Wish

After Thanksgiving dinner when I was a kid, my dad would make me pull the wishbone apart with him to see who would win the “Turkey Wish.” I always thought it was kind of stupid, but my dad took this tradition really seriously. Here’s how it went:

1988: I win. I wish for a pony. Dad says I can’t wish for that because it’s too expensive. I wish for a dog instead.

1989: I win again. Dad yells a word I’ve only heard in R-rated movies and then hits his hand down on the table, hard. I wish for a Nintendo.

1990: Dad wins. He is really happy. He kisses my mom on the mouth and yells “Now who’s the loser?”

1991: I win. Dad locks himself in the bathroom. There’s a loud crashing sound like a pane of glass shattering. I wish for us never to play Turkey Wish again.

1992: Dad says my previous wish doesn’t count and makes me play. He wins. He wishes for a new son who isn’t “such a failure at everything he sets his hand to.”

1993: I win. Dad moves to Wisconsin.

1994: Thanksgiving morning, 5 A.M. The phone rings. It is my dad pretending to be an old lady. It is a bad impression. He asks if any one remembers the tradition of the Turkey Wish. I can hear him sobbing softly in the background. He makes up some excuse about needing to go put on his “old lady dress” and hangs up. The next week I receive an envelope in the mail with twenty broken wish bones soaked in tears.

Happy Thanksgiving!