Thursday’s Hero: Gone but Not Forgotten

He’s gone, but his essence lingers. Like a guest who’s overstayed his leave, it takes a couple of days to get the turkey out of the house.

Even now, the kitchen smells faintly fowl; the fridge bears mute testament to his gallantry; with luck, the dark meat will last until Monday Night Football.

It was, as always, a glorious Thanksgiving, and perhaps it’s time to spare a last thought for the one who made it all possible:

ODE TO A BIG BIRD

The Hero of the Day is in the freezer

With chilly sweet potatoes by his side.

He’s fed Aunt Gert and Uncle Ebenezer,

And cousin Bob and (what’s her name?) his bride. The Hero of the Day is now a carcass.

He’s fed Joanne and Joey’s youngest boy.

He tells himself when karma’s at its darkest

He gave his all that others might enjoy. He’d thought his life was going to be better,

A saturnalia, starting every morn.

The farmer’s wife would pet him, and he’d let her.

(The wife was curator of the corn.)

He’d spent his days a-hunting and a-pecking

And preening plumage for the softer sex.

He’d even done a fair amount of necking

(A tricky gig, with wattles down your neck.)

The Hero of the Day lived life a winner;

The fattest in the barnyard, he would boast.

OK, it’s true he never had a dinner.

(At least until he starred in his own roast.)

And then one morning, overcast and murky,

The farmer came to get him with his ax.

The Hero quit his bacchanal cold turkey,

And now he’s playing post-Thanksgiving snacks.

For him, a happy ending to the story:

He didn’t spend his holidays alone.

He had his brief Warholian hour of glory;

A feathered friend, a Hero to the bone.

The Hero of the Day is in the soup now,

A post-script to granddaddy’s ardent grace.

A heartfelt epitaph adorns his coop now:

“He gobbled so that we might feed our face.”