Five years ago this week, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I got an urgent email from John McCaslin, the great Washington Times writer and all-round good guy, who for several years previous had been gracious enough to include my politickles on a regular basis in his “Inside the Beltway” column. He was just finishing up his column for the next day, had a tiny space left, and wondered if I could write a limerick on order for Thanksgiving. Needless to say, I dropped everything (which probably wasn’t much, as I was unemployed at the time) and put the old thinking cap on. Thanksgiving? Thanksgiving? What memories does that particular holiday conjure up? Ah, yes. Lots of good food, and the agony — for a kid, at least — of having to wait half the day to eat any of it! Thus, “Gobbler” and a new politickle tradition (the annual Thanksgiving limerick) were born (see archive below).
Each year at this time, I put the thinking cap (beret, actually) back on and try to dredge up something from my childhood (and adult) memories of Thanksgiving from which to generate a limerick: being glad to have guests over but hoping they won’t overstay their welcome (2004), being completely unable to fathom the appeal of cranberry sauce (2005), eating too much on purpose (2006), remembering in the midst of self-engorgement that some people aren’t so lucky (2007), looking forward to the annual opportunity to ogle the Rockettes (also 2007), and realizing in late adolescence that not everyone in America has the same Thanksgiving meal that New Orleanians do (2008). Click on the embedded links in “Ooh La La!” for some dandy recipes.
This year, having called the family together for a brainstorming session, I got lucky and wound up with two good ideas for a Thanksgiving limerick. I’ve got the one for 2009 already written, and for that I’m truly grateful. Unfortunately, you’ll have to wait a year to read it.
If you’re thankful for your lot
And all the things you’ve got,
Then say a prayer
And give a care
For someone on the spot.
How much better can Thanksgiving get?
In my bedroom a 60-inch set,
And in HD displayed
This year’s Macy’s Parade:
Waking up to a scrumptious Rockette!
With the turkey and trimmings procured,
Our Thanksgiving repast is assured,
But it won’t be complete
‘Til we sit down to eat
And the family’s as stuffed as the bird.
If your husband’s a Thanksgiving fan
And a cranberry sauce kind of man,
You might make him a batch
Of the sauce all from scratch,
But he’ll miss that weird goop in the can!
Lord, we ask of you a boon:
To bless our guests this noon.
We’re so grateful they
Could come today —
And have to leave real soon!
Hold your horses; we’re not in a race.
Get that drumstick away from your face.
Now put your fork down
And stop making that frown.
You can eat when we finish the grace.
Last week’s limerick:
NO CHILD LEFT
If a kid is a bit of a scamp
And resists the new socialist stamp,
He will be reassigned
And his mind realigned
At a reeducational camp.