American Humor: On the Hunt for Thanksgiving Turkey

The last laugh column shares MOTHER EARTH NEWS reader submitted regional American humor with other MOTHER readers.


| October/November 1996



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"Well" said her father proudly, "every year I ask one of the boys to go and bring back the fresh turkey for the Thanksgiving meal." He paused. "This year I thought I'd ask you.


ILLUSTRATION: DARREN THOMPSON

Last Laugh shares MOTHER EARTH NEWS reader submitted American humor with other readers. 

American Humor: On the Hunt for Thanksgiving Turkey

As I drove up Highway 27 heading toward Northern Michigan, I was enjoying a late fall day, the kind just sunny enough that if you wanted to (and I did), you could stick your hand out the window and feel the crisp air passing through your fingers without being cold. It was gorgeous, and so was she.

Her name was Jennifer Johnson. I met her at a grocery store in East Lansing, Michigan, the year before.

I had been hopelessly shopping for food for my first Thanksgiving dinner away from home when I spotted her. "Pardon me," I said, "could you tell me which one of these turkeys is the best?" 

Slightly startled, she smiled and explained patiently, "Well, I like them a little fresher than all of these, but if you have to, I'd go with that one" I accepted the bird of her choice, and then managed to wrangle her phone number out of the deal. We went out the next weekend, then the weekend after that, and then the weekend after that. A year later she was sitting next to me in the passenger seat with her hand dangling out of the window as well. "Are you nervous?" she asked. "Of course not," I laughed, lying. 

"Good," she smiled, "Everybody's so excited to meet you. 





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