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| Category: Strange Occurences |
Date published: December 1, 2004 |
My daddy was dead, but who told the wild turkeys?
It seemed everyone saw them... everyone except my daddy. He was a man who ate everything and anything. The cheeks of fish and the yellow eggs found inside them... poor man's caviar. My daddy fished and hunted and fed his wife and seven children on deer meat both in and out of season. He was chased by the Game Wardens one night and became lost in the deep hardwoods of Upper Michigan. A search party had to be summoned to find him. I remember the time he shot a bear and my mama cooked a roast from it. It was the first time in my life I saw something my daddy couldn't eat. In his mind, he continued to see the many woodticks that had taken residence on the bear's body. After two bites, he set his plate aside.
My daddy would have loved to taste one of the wild turkeys that roamed freely throughout the area where I grew up, but he never saw one. People who hung out with him at the local beer joints bragged about the many they themselves had seen. It was only after hearing that some of the wild turkeys were grazing on the manure piles of one of the local farmers that my daddy changed his mind about those turkeys. Well, temporarily anyway.
My daddy was a character, one who'll never be forgotten. I wish I could say his memory lives on for only good reasons, but I can't say that. My dad was a short-tempered man who abused alcohol, as well as his wife and children. Many never seen this side of my dad, they saw the comic. Men were entertained by him at the local bars and probably tell stories of him to this day. We didn't find him so funny.
What is funny though...is love. God seems to place it in the hearts of some of us and it is distributed without condition. This was so with the love I had for my daddy, it was unconditional. To this day, I carry the scars implanted upon my psychic from his abuse. An emotionally injured person will in turn give pain to others and that was true of my father. "Will the circle be unbroken?" I sure hope so one day and hope that I have helped break that circle of abuse.
I express my feelings the best through poetry. This poem explains my opening statement. I took poetic liberty in exaggerating the part about my daddy having had his shotgun perched to shoot his prey. In reality, that gun, and many others, stood ready in a gun cabinet near the place he planted his rump each day.
NO TURKEY TODAY
Sitting in the kitchen, on his favorite chair,
there would sit my daddy, in his underwear.
The fact that he was naked, never bothered him,
he'd sit and eat his bowl of soup dripping from his chin.
With bulbous belly hanging out, he'd sit upon that chair,
seemingly not caring, how my friends would stare.
I used to want to run and hide, or maybe even die.
Humiliation filled my soul and made me want to cry.
He'd gaze outside the window while sitting in that chair,
hoping to see wild turkeys he knew were there somewhere.
Saliva forming on his mouth as he thought of roasted turkey,
his shotgun perched to shoot his prey... they wouldn't have a prayer.
Not a wild turkey ever seen while sitting there,
nor did I see him in overalls... just his underwear.
The day they placed him in the ground, in February, oh so cold,
sixty wild turkeys marched past his view so bold.
Six groups or more of eight to ten, they marched right by that window,
feeling safe, they marched on through in quiet crescendo.
I couldn't help but wish inside, my daddy, he was there,
to see this awesome, regal sight... even in his underwear.
Now that I live in the south, I look back at my childhood and know that Rednecks don't only live in the southern parts. They live in Michigan, too. It's hard for me to say these words, but...my daddy was a Redneck. Sitting around in long underwear at that kitchen table while my friends were around. It's amazing how his seven children turned out as well as they did. Just goes to show the grace of God.
"Rest in peace, daddy. I love you."
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In My Own Words: Out-of-the-Ordinary Experiences
