RBC | Hello, my name is Joe Turkey. You may have heard of my more famous brother, Thomas. Tom is often pictured this time of year wearing a Pilgrim hat and belt. Macy’s parade pays tribute to him with a giant inflatable every year. To me, he looks a bit silly, but he is historically correct, boasting that our family met the Pilgrims at the shore.
Our branch of the family became more sophisticated than our “wild” cousins. We garnered the attention of the merchant class in New England, and became known as Domesticated Turkeys.
I am not fond of the term “domesticated.” It makes me sound like I am a hen-pecked husband. I have never considered myself as “wimpy,” but I will admit a fear of dark enclosed spaces and an allergy to gravy.
I would like you to know we Turkeys are noble birds. It is rumored that Benjamin Franklin himself nominated us to be the National Bird of America. Ben once wrote his daughter, Sarah on the subject. He referred to the Bald Eagle as “a bird of bad moral character. He does not get his living honestly.”
We turkeys would make a much more noble symbol. Imagine how the turkey would appear on a presidential seal behind the president during news conferences at the White House. If there was a dominant third political party, the mascot could be a turkey. It is much more prestigious than a donkey or an elephant. There are cities named for us all over the U.S.: Turkey Creek, Louisiana; Turkey City, Texas; Turkey Town, North Carolina and Turkey Creek, Arizona. There is even a country named Turkey. The university in Istanbul, Turkey, was founded in 1453.
Some may consider turkeys as dumb. Folklore has depicted us as running around in the rain with our beaks open, eventually drowning. This is an outrageous slur! Turkeys are well educated and known to be on every college campus. I will have you know that on one graduation day, turkeys were awarded 425 degrees! The ceremony took three and a half hours! I will admit, not all turkeys are good guys. Occasionally one will go over to the Dark Side. Once a year the President graciously pardons one turkey.
Well, I must be getting along. I have been invited to a party as ‘guest of honor.’ Afterward, the guys are going to gather around a big screen TV, sit in recliners and watch football. It is a game played with a ball made of pig skin… poor pig!
Happy Thanksgiving,
Joe Turkey, A.O.G. (Ancient Order of Gobblers)
By ED PECK