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Give 'Em Hill: Thanksgiving tidbits, served warm and smothered in snark

Now, the preceding paragraphs might suggest I am quite the traditionalist when it comes to holiday celebrations, when actually it's just the opposite. I am a turkey-day rebel, if you will, thanks to frequently working at a newspaper on many a T-Day and experiencing some unusual celebrations.

There was the time when I was working at the Tri-Valley Herald and I covered a house fire in Livermore, caused by a flaming Thanksgiving turkey which had somehow ignited while in the oven and the people took it out of the oven and panicked and went running around the kitchen with it like a chicken with its head, well, you know, and managed to set their curtains on fire. Damage to the house was minimal. The turkey was toast.

Afterward, the soot-smudged firefighters kindly invited me to the station for their own T-Day meal. It felt a little funny celebrating a delicious holiday feast after someone else's was spoiled. So wrong, yet the pumpkin pie was so right.

Another year, I was working the night shift at the Oakland Tribune, back when the Trib offices were housed in Jack London Square. It was just me, my editor Leanne and fellow reporter Bill. We hadn't really planned ahead for the evening as far as food was concerned, so Bill scuttled over to T.G.I. Friday's and brought back everything off the appetizer menu. We sat there at our desks munching on nachos and fried mozzarella sticks while listening to the occasional "shots fired" reports and "additions to the hot shee" (stolen cars) on the police scanner. It was a nice. quiet night. Bill shared tales of riding a bull in the rodeo and getting bucked off. The hot chocolate in the Delicor vending machine was free for the holiday. And deep-fried carbohydrates never tasted so good.

Tradition transition

So for me, Thanksgiving wouldn't be Thanksgiving if it were "normal" with tons of relatives and kids running around tossing footballs. Don't get me wrong. I love this holiday. Not just for the food, but for the wonderful opportunity to pause and reflect on things we have to be grateful for, whether it's expressing sincere thanks to a higher power, or just to our fellow humans for keeping the cranberry sauce confined to its own little serving bowl, just for me.

In fact I find it hard to swallow that Thanksgiving has become a mere appetizer on the way to the smorgasbord of Christmas, especially in the retail stores. In a blink, my local CVS went from discounted plastic vampire fangs to Snoopys with antlers. Cost Plus seems to have Christmas ornaments out all year long, even through Halloween, providing a startling juxtaposition of bloodshot-eyeball-Rice-Krispie treats giving perky elves and jolly Santas the hairy eyeball. (Tim Burton must have been standing in the "in-between" aisle when he came up with "The Nightmare Before Christmas.")

Signs of Thanksgiving are as scarce as Eggo waffles. But there are a few. (Signs of Thanksgiving, that is. Good luck on the waffles.) There's a giant inflatable turkey with a pilgrim hat on a front lawn in my neighborhood, although when he's turned off he just looks like a half-filled orange-and-brown trash bag. There's an autumn chill in the air and a hint of wood smoke, but fortunately not enough to trigger a Spare-the-Air night. There was a guy dressed as a big turkey at Trader Joe's. I almost ran him down with my cart. Accidentally, of course.

And I've been making turkey pictures on the big white board in the newsroom by drawing around my hand and then dressing up the turkey with feathers and a wattle. Sometimes my turkey is riding a skateboard. Sometimes he has fangs. Sometimes he's wearing a jet pack. But at least he's there.

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