Thanksgiving Week Is (Usually) My Favorite Time Of The Year
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DAVE’S WORLD
By David Howell
I have long opined that there is no better time of the year than the week of Thanksgiving. This holiday is my favorite – delicious food and great fellowship – without the stress that accompanies our country’s commercialization of Christmas. My fond memories of Thanksgiving date back to childhood years when we had lunch at my father’s parents and then supper at my mom’s parents.
The only real stress that I can remember was making sure not to gorge at lunch, and then show up for the latter meal with the other grandparents without a healthy appetite. My grandmother would keep a keen eye on us, making sure the grandchildren (and adults) weren’t merely playing with the food. I don’t recall any of us letting her down, but I think my older brother made himself sick several times.
Thanksgiving week also marks the start of gun season for deer, a longstanding tradition in Mississippi as hundreds of thousands take to the woods. The season starts the Saturday prior to Thanksgiving, and I look forward to hunting that first weekend and returning to the woods during the holiday break. Admittedly my enthusiasm has waned a little as the mid-century mark is only months away, but hunting is peaceful and can still be an adrenaline rush when a big buck comes out or a turkey starts gobbling.
This year was no exception, and I was excited about the cooler temperature forecast Saturday morning following a stint of unusually warm days this fall.
Thursday night I noticed a slight tickle in the back of my throat, but didn’t think much about it. By Friday night it was evident that the diagnosis was a nice winter cold and deer season suddenly seemed less significant. I didn’t even get out of the bed Saturday morning, but with a good dose of who-knows-what that my wife pulled from the medicine cabinet, I managed to make it through the rest of the day without slowing down much. I watched Ole Miss lose to Florida and went to the stand, totally disgusted with college football.
By the way, the Egg Bowl is always another favorite Thanksgiving tradition but sadly not so much this year for us Ole Miss fans. I just hope Ole Miss wins so I can get the 10 bucks back I lost to Daryl Burney on the Ole Miss – Florida game. Burney has an uncanny insight when it comes to a friendly wager and one of these days I am going to learn.
That Saturday afternoon hunt was a good one, the first buck that came out in the food plot was pretty nice. I think if I had been feeling 100 percent, I would have pulled the trigger. Instead I took a picture, holding my iPhone lens to the binoculars and texted the picture to couple of other guys hunting with me.
Howell took a picture of this buck, holding his iPhone to the binoculars.
“He’s not a shooter,” I claimed in the text, knowing all along I have been proud to pull the trigger on many other bucks that size. “We need to let bucks like this grow another year,” I added in the text for good measure.
In hindsight, I’m glad I didn’t shoot that buck because I know there are some bigger ones hanging around. But honestly, I did not feel like fooling with him. As a tightwad, I usually cut up my own deer meat when I kill one instead of taking it to a processor unless I want some specialty items such as deer bologna or summer sausage.
My cold got cranked up good Saturday night, you know how a cold makes you feel worse the later it gets in the day, and I crashed hard Saturday night. It was after nine Sunday morning before I got out of the bed, it just felt too good to get up. This time the day-time sinus and cold medicine had less effect on my symptoms and all I felt like doing was holding the coach down, at least until it was time for an afternoon hunt. I got in a deer stand, and spent more time sneezing and coughing than anything and finally walked back to the house at dark, thoroughly disgusted with the entire weekend.
Monday was no better, and it seemed like my brain was slow to process anything while I stared at my computer. I may can skip a deer hunt if I am ailing, but the paper must be printed Tuesday night come heck, high water or an occasional holiday schedule adjustment. Plus Mrs. Betty would turn over in her grave if we missed an edition!
Speaking of missing an edition, I have a new, potential world record for the slowest delivery of an Herald. Uncle Johnny, who occasionally pens a column for the Herald, reported that the July 4 edition arrived in his mailbox Monday, Nov. 5. He lives in Courtland, just one county over from us. The Pony Express could make that run in a couple of hours.
If we make a list of what is wrong in this world, postal delivery is certainly should be in the top 10. The summer months may have been the worst I can remember in two decades of business for delivery, and I believe one reason is federal holidays in June (Juneteenth) and July (Fourth) both were on Wednesdays. It seems that a Wednesday holiday, the day we drop our papers off at the post office for delivery, can lead to serious delivery problems.
We really appreciate the patience from all of our out-of-town subscribers. Thankfully delivery for in-town subscribers is still timely, and we credit our local mail carriers who go the extra mile for delivery. The problem is our out-of-town papers are shipped to a distribution center in Memphis and it is anyone’s guess as to what goes on there. I figure that July 4 edition was stuck with a bag of mail in a corner somewhere in the distribution center, and it made a nice pillow at naptime.
One bit of good news – Uncle Johnny also noted that Herald deliveries have been pretty prompt lately. Happy Thanksgiving, I hope everyone enjoys a nice holiday. And Merry Christmas, Uncle Johnny, just in case this edition arrives late.
