I tried to raise a turkey this year for Thanksgiving. Alas, there was a fire at the hatchery and I wouldn’t have received them until June. And anyone who’s raised turkeys knows they won’t be fat enough for dinner in November by then. So I guess, in my own way, I pardoned a turkey or two.
There are, of course, holes in my story. We are having a turkey for Thanksgiving. But I didn’t know him (or her). I didn’t feed and raise my dinner. And I certainly didn’t eighty-six the individual. (Although, I hear from Martha that best way to do it is to feed them a martini before you do it because it relaxes them and makes them loopy, like me after a few.)
I guess when you really think about it, there was a fire at the hatchery, so those potential turkey dinners were roasted at an early age. So those turkeys I ordered were all cooked, a bunch of tiny meals for tiny people, like The Littles or The Gummy Bears. SO maybe I haven’t really pardoned anything.
Next year, we’ll do it for real! I’m raising turkeys, and then eating them to celebrate the Europeans coming to North America. Or perhaps I won’t. I don’t know if I have the stomach for it. But if the pilgrims could do it…then I might be able to. And then there won’t be any turkey pardons going around, fake or otherwise.