The Turkey

The box says it all: a famous smoked turkey.

Even though the Joneses have sent me one for several years now, somehow I forgot, so its arrival took me by surprise. It's a famous turkey -- or, at least, the folks who smoked it are.

But I didn't know that the first year I received one. I took it to Birmingham for Christmas, to share with the family, celebrating their first Christmas without my sister-in-law. My nephew-in-law was so delighted he could hardly contain himself. Impressively, he got every single bit of meat off the bone, and I mean every single bit, with a knife. I didn't do so well. I dismembered it as best I could (I love the direction: have your butcher . . . -- oh, if only there were a butcher up here), stored the parts wrapped in toil foil and placed in freezer bags. One sandwich today, happily, and then lovely turkey after the 26th.

The best part of the treat is the friendship of the family who gifted me. Three daughters -- all of whom I taught, all of whom love books and reading as much as their parents, all of them gifted themselves; one "little" brother now at a rival college as kicker on the football (which should bring parents here next season for the game); and one set of parents, both smart and funny and kind.

To them all, I say only what I can, Thank you for your kindness over these many years and for your continuing friendship.

Oh! And for the famous turkey!