Turkey isn’t how you spell thanks

 

 

She says:

It is not only the harvest season but also that time of year when we are reminded to give thanks for all that we have. Most of us will be enjoying a turkey feast this weekend as part of the celebrations. However, with all the news of late that seems to spell doom and gloom I wanted to take time to say that even a can of beans could serve the purpose for gathering folks together to be grateful. In our part of the world we have much to be grateful for, and if you have someone to share your meal with then that is a great start right there.

The family part of Thanksgiving is the most obvious, and although your blood relatives may be far away, often friends can fill the gap and share a special time. I know as a culture we are aware of sharing with those less fortunate as well; Thanksgiving is often a time when people are reminded to give back in any way they know how. But what about the less formal part of the holiday; what about the essence of being grateful? Can you do that if you are stressed out about work and a busy schedule and having to pay the bills?

We need to make sure we take time for ourselves, to stop and smell the flowers so to speak. That is when it is easiest to be grateful, when you take time to notice the world around you. Ambition is a powerful thing that can take you places, and responsibilities are important but we need to remember not to let the cart lead the horse. If you collapse from the stress of trying to get that never-ending list of duties completed or from the pressure of trying to live up to expectations, then you will never have a chance to really be grateful and enjoy your life – no matter how much turkey you eat.

In closing I will reprint a poem I included in an earlier column, which was made famous when it was discovered on the body of a man who was instrumental in convicting Al Capone. He was gunned down, but no one is sure if the note was something he carried or if it was left by his killers. I leave you to ponder its importance.

 

The Clock of Life

by Robert H. Smith, copyright 1932, 1982

 

The clock of life is wound but once,

And no man has the power

To tell just when the hands will stop

At late or early hour.

 

To lose one's wealth is sad indeed,

To lose one's health is more,

To lose one's soul is such a loss

That no man can restore.

 

The present only is our own,

So live, love, toil with a will,

Place no faith in "Tomorrow,"

For the Clock may then be still.

 

He says:

No turkey at this house this weekend! I am “ba-be-cuing” one last time before real cold weather takes over our beautiful sunny valley. It’s not that I don’t like eating turkey, but it is not my favourite. We will most likely eat beef tri-tip on Sunday night.

On Sunday during the day, I am doing a training day, making beef brisket for a few friends. Fifteen hours of slow smoking on a wood fire of apple, apricot, cherry and oak. I use these training days to improve my skill at making smoke and perfecting my cooking technique so that I can do better next competition season. I am thankful that I had a dedicated team this year for Team Taboo, and we look forward to bringing home more bling next summer.

This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.