Listening to the Glories of Christmas Carols – Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day

Sometimes we listen and like and love and repeat Christmas carols without really knowing the words or understanding them. I was thinking of this the other day when my wife and I were worshiping with a congregation of much younger adults with a large number of members who had not grown up in the church. We were singing Christmas carols and we sang What Child Is This and came to the line that says:

Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.

I found myself wondering how many people understood that the word mean here was not talking about being unkind but poor. I realize that many of my favorite carols can easily be misunderstood because of the change of language. Even more often we don’t get the whole point of a carol because we simply never hear all the words either because they are too long or because someone may believe that some folks my be offended by the true words of a carol.

One of my wife Debbie’s favorite carols is Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day. In its fullness it is a great declaration of the gospel. Here it is in full, it speaks for itself. Happy second day of Christmas.

Tomorrow shall be my dancing day
I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my play
To call my true love to my dance.

Chorus:
Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love
My love, my love
This have I done for my true love.

Then was I born of a virgin pure
Of her I took fleshly substance
Thus was I knit to man’s nature
To call my true love to my dance.

Chorus

In a manger laid, and wrapped I was
So very poor, this was my chance
Betwixt an ox and a silly poor ass
To call my true love to my dance.

Chorus

Then afterwards baptized I was
The Holy Ghost on me did glance
My Father’s voice heard from above
To call my true love to my dance.

Chorus

Into the desert I was led
Where I fasted without substance
The Devil bade me make stones my bread
To have me break my true love’s dance.

Chorus

The Jews on me they made great suit
And with me made great variance
Because they loved darkness rather than light
To call my true love to my dance.

Chorus

For thirty pence Judas me sold
His covetousness for to advance
Mark whom I kiss, the same do hold
The same is he, who shall lead the dance.

Chorus

Before Pilate the Jews me brought
Where Barabbas had deliverance
They scourged me and set me at naught
Judged me to die to lead the dance.

Chorus

Then on the cross hanged I was
Where a spear my heart did glance
There issued forth both water and blood
To call my true love to my dance.

Chorus

Then down to hell I took my way
For my true love’s deliverance
And rose again on the third day
Up to my true love and the dance.

Chorus

Then up to heaven I did ascend
Where now I dwell in sure substance
On the right hand of God, that man
May come unto the general dance.

Chorus

Christmas In Roebuck Junction(part IV)

The next day was December 23 and I finished decorating the house and got it clean before Roberta got home from work. Christmas Eve Roberta was off from work. My parents were coming up Christmas day to bring Roberta her gifts and take me to Charlotte to celebrate Christmas at Grannie’s. Christmas Eve we went over to the Christmas pageant at first Baptist. Everything went fine except Cletus Smith, the ten year old playing Joseph had eaten too many Christmas cookies and tossed them just as the three kings were singing “Myrrh is mine: its bitter perfume breathes a life of gathering gloom” seemed pretty appropriate to me because at that point the air really did smell like bitter perfume but Roberta got upset with me when I began to laugh. We finished by going to the reception following and ate some gingerbread men that looked like they had been made by Dr. Frankenstein, Roberta told me that they were made by the McGillicuddy twins who did the best job they could and drank some red punch with green ice in it that was really pretty good. As we walked home it started to get pretty cold and the wind was blowing. When we walked up to the house there was Mr. R. J. Bledsoe standing on the front stoop. Roberta was a little worried wondering if something was wrong, maybe she was in trouble at the plant. We walked up to the door and Roberta said: “Mr Bledsoe, what brings you out to my house on Christmas Eve?”  “Hello Roberta,” he said “Merry Christmas. I just needed to talk to you about something. May I come in”. Well you don’t tell your boss that he can’t come in the house so Roberta said certainly, unlocked the door and led us all in. Roberta presented me to Mr. Bledsoe and said this is my friend Pearl’s grandson. “He has come up to help me get ready for the holidays.”. I shook Mr. Bledsoe’s hand and I made sure that I gave him a firm grip and not a cold fish as my daddy used to tell me.  I turned to go back to my bedroom so Mr. Bledsoe could talk to Roberta but he asked me to stay saying that what he had to say concerned me as well. He said : “Lee, I’ve heard about how you have helped out Roberta this week. It is a wonderful thing for you to give up your time to come up here”. I told him it was really nothing and that Roberta’s fried chicken was worth it, he looked at me with a shy grin and said: “And Tootsie’s burgers?” and I said yea, that too, wondering how he knew about that.. He then asked me if I had gone up to the plant a few days ago to pick up Roberta’s gift. I looked over at Roberta and she smiled at me. I looked back at Mr. Bledsoe and said Yes sir. He then asked be about getting the wrong bag and then taking it over to Mrs. Bishops and I said yes. He asked me if I had opened the bag before taking it over to Effie’s house. Roberta interrupted and told the whole story saying that I had not opened the bag but that we had opened it together not noticing it was the wrong bag. She said that as soon as she saw the snuff she knew that it was the wrong bag and we packed everything up and sent it over to Effie. He asked if we had seen anything else in the bag and Roberta turned real red and said yes we found the envelop with all the money but we had put it all back and sent it over to Effie’s. He said he knew because Effie had called to thank him and to tell him that she was going to use the money to buy a plane ticket to California because she had always wanted to watch the Tournament of Roses in Pasadena, California. She told him that she had really forgotten about the Christmas bags and would not have even gotten it if I had not brought it by. He looked at Roberta and said that it was a wonderful thing we had done, even if Effie did not really need the money and was going to use it for something silly like going to Pasadena. He said that Roberta was really a very fine woman and that he greatly respected her for her hard work and all she had gone through since Earl had left. He reached inside his top coat and pulled out an envelope. He said: “I’m sorry it could not be another $2,000 but he hoped that this would add a little something to our Christmas. He said he had to go, again told Roberta how much he really respected her and what a fine woman she really was. As he turned to walk out the door, he turned to me, pulled out his wallet and gave me a $50 bill. I had never held so much money in my life. He said Merry Christmas, Lee and walked out the door and closed it behind him. I turned to Roberta to tell her to open it but I was too late. She was standing there with tears running down her cheeks. “It’s a thousand dollars Lee! A thousand dollars”. We both rushed to the door to run and thank Mr. Bledsoe but he was gone, no where in sight. But the carolers from the Antioch First Apostolic Church of Jesus Christ from down the street were on the front lawn singing “Joy to the World” and it was even colder and the wind was blowing and it was snowing to beat the band. Christmas Eve, 1963 in Roebuck Junction, North Carolina and I was joyfully standing there with my Aunt Roberta, listening to the real reasons for joy that time of year, or any time of year.

Christmas in Roebuck Junction (part 3)

How did you know it was not yours Aunt Roberta? Well, she turned up her nose made a face that would curdle fresh milk and said: “Because of this, this SNUFF”. Well being only 10 and growing up in the city I had no idea what snuff was except that I had seen commercials for something called Tube Rose Snuff on the Arthur Smith Show that I watched with my grandmother’s house. Now I had heard of snuff but only in old movies and it was something that men in funny costumes put on their hand, sniffed and then sneezed. I thought it might have been something for sinus problems. I made the mistake of saying: “You don’t use snuff Aunt Roberts”. “Young man, I’ll have you know I am a god-fearing Baptist. I would never use such stuff. Especially the way that Effie Bishop uses it. You would think that being a church going woman Effie would know that the Lord don’t take to dippin’ snuff. Especially by women. But I guess when you’re a Methodist, then it don’t really matter what you do”. She seemed pretty disgusted and I had no idea why. Several years later I was to find out. After she retired Aunt Roberta used to have to travel to the county seat to pick up her social security check, said she just did not trust the mailman. Effie took her every month to pick up the check, to the bank to deposit it and then to the J C Penny department store to do a little shopping. When I was 14 I spent two weeks one summer with Roberta and had to travel with her and Effie to the county seat. Effie drove an old, big Buick that Robert had bought with money from the life insurance policy on Robert. She used to say that it was just like in that movie Its A Wonderful Life, old Robert was worth more to her dead than alive. She was a little ol’ lady who could barely see over the sterring wheel. Well as soon as Roberta and I got in the car Roberta cries out: “Of Effie can’t you make just one trip with out using that snuff”. “Roberta”, said Effie, “I know you Baptist don’t take to snuff and your preacher preaches against it but my Bible says: Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man. – Matthew 15:11. So I will just enjoy my snuff.

Well at just that moment Effie took one of those small cans of Sweet Bee Snuff and dumped the whole thing into her lower lip! I could not believe it. She looked like a chipmunk storing away an entire winter’s worth of nuts in his cheek all at once.

Well anyway. Aunt Roberta knew that it was Effie’s because of the snuff. She said “You had better take this over to Effie and go get my real poke.” As she said that she took one more look into the bag and pulled out a thick envelop. She said “Oh, my” as she looked at it. She opened it and in the envelop were 40 $50 bills, Two thousand dollars! She sat down suddenly in the faded yellow, overstuffed chair. I thought she was going to faint. She kept mumbling, what am I going to do, what am I going to do? I asked her what was going on. She told me that each year Mr. R. J. Bledsoe picked one bag each Christmas to give a special gift of money too. It was totally at random (all the supervisors told them so) and there was no way of knowing who would get it. I could tell Aunt Roberta was wrestling with what to do about the money. She really needed the money. Her pay check at the mill barely made ends meet. Effie, on the other hand, was well off from Robert’s life insurance policy and she was well taken care of (never needed to worry about money for snuff). It was not even likely that Effie was going to go up and pick up her gifts and would never find out but Roberta’s conscience would not let her go. She put everything back in the bag and sent me off to Effie’s house and back to the mill. I knocked on the door and greeted Effie by saying Merry Christmas. She wanted to know what I was doing there and told her about the Christmas bag mix up but did not tell her that we had opened the sack. She thanked me for bringing it by and gave me a candy cane and wished me Merry Christmas. I walked back up to the mill and got back in line. When Mr. McIntosh saw me he told me “Only one bag per family little fella’ . I told him what happened and he went over and got Mrs. Traylor to come over and look at the remaining bags and she said: “He’s right Amos, this here bag has Roberta’s name on it. You really should get some glasses”. He handed the bag back to me and I raced home again. The contents of the two bags were about the same with the exception that in place of the snuff there were 4 pairs of support stockings (I learned those were the female items) and there was no envelop with $2,000. Roberta looked at me and smiled and said. I guess it will be just a simple Christmas this year.

Update on Roger McGuinn

As a follow-up on my posting about Roger McGuinn, you may be interested to know he will be performing on the Grand Ole Opry this Saturday night. In the ’60s McGuinn and the rest of the Byrds appeared to a less than warm reception. It was one of those “hippies” vs. “the rednecks” sort of things. The Byrds played longer than their alloted time and their hair was a bit too long for the regular Opry folks so they were actually booed on stage.

McGuinn is returning at the invitation of regular Opry member Marty Stuart. Marty and his band, The Fabulous Superlatives, will join McGuinn on stage. The Opry is back at the Ryman and I’m pretty sure that means there is only the 7:00 PM show. In many places in the US you can pick up the Opry on 650 AM or you can go to their internet site and listen live on line http://www.wsmonline.com/indexhigh.html

If you have never heard the Opry, you owe it to yourself to give a listen. My mom and dad visited us here in Murfreesboro about 7 years ago and we took them. It was at the Opry House and not the Ryman so it lacked the intimacy of the Ryman (one of the top ten places to hear music in the world) and he was thrilled. He was never a country fan (unless you count Tennessee Ernie Ford hymns) but he had grown up listening to in on the radio in Columbia, SC and thoroughly enjoyed it. Attending the Opry is an experience every American should put on their bucket list -even if you don’t like country music. If you can’t make it live you should at least give a listen.

Christmas in Roebuck Junction – Part II

I then walked down to the drug store to get some ice cream and then down to the Kress’s five and ten cent store and walked on home.

The highlight of the week came when Roberta asked me to go down to the mill and pick up a gift for her. Well, what she said exactly was “Lee, sweetie, will you run down to the plant and pick up my poke.” I said pick up what and she said pick up my poke. I had no idea what she was talking about and really couldn’t make head or tails about it. I guess I had a quizzical look on my face because Roberta said: “Surely child you know what a poke is?” When I said no she said something under her breath about my mother moving off to the big city and taking up uppity ways. “A poke is a sack, a bag. Every year the mill gives a goody bag to all the  folks who work there”. “What’s in it I asked”, hoping to hear something that would interest me. Well, it varies from year to year. Sometimes a ham, sometimes a turkey. Candy of some sort. Oranges and tangerines. And there are always something very special. The folks who put together the bags know everyone who work there and they put something just for us in the bag. She told me to under no circumstances open the poke before I got home. Well I walked up to the mill and waited in line with a bunch of people in their 50s and 60s. I finally got to the front of the line and there was old man McIntosh. He live around the corner form aunt Roberta. He recognized me right away, though I do not know how, he was as blind as a bat. He once mistook a kite I was flying in Roberta’s back yard for a hawk and got out his shotgun and blew it away thinking it was after his chickens. But anyway he said “General Lee! Good to see you. Here to pick up Roberta’s poke”? Yes sir. I looked at the table full of the tremendous bags crammed full of all sorts of stuff. He turned to me, held out the bag and sort of smiled and motioned to me that me that he wanted to whisper something: “Don’t you dare open that until you get it to Roberta. They usually put some personal stuff in these pokes and there is likely to be some female products in there.” Having been raised in a family where the fried chicken legs were intentionally called drumsticks and breasts were simply called white meat, I had no idea what “female products” were and had no desire to find out. If I had been stopped by a robber on the way home and he put a gun to my head I still would not have opened that bag. Female products, no tellin’ what that might me.

I got back to Roberta’s all excited. Surely there was something in this bag that could be for me. I ran in the front door and cried “Aunt Roberta, Aunt Roberta! I’m here with the poke!”. She came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron from washing up the morning dishes. She said “Well bring it over here”. She opened it up and began to bring things out just like Santa and his big old sack. She pulled out a box of peppermint sticks. She said “Oh these are great for sticking in an orange and sucking out the juice” She then pulled out a bag of oranges. Then she pulled out a whole ham, a box of chocolates, a book of Christmas stories and two jars of homemade preserves of some sort. I kept waiting for the “female items” when Aunt Roberts cried out “Oh, Law” as she pulled out a package that contained twelve small cans about the size of one of those little container that 35 mm film comes in only a little bit bigger around. I had no idea what in the world it was (thinking it might be a female item, I didn’t ask). She pulled it out and said: “This ain’t my poke”. I said what to you mean old man McIntosh gave it to me himself. She said “That ol’ fool is as blind as a bat”. As she quickly looked at the tag on the bag. “This is for Robert Bishop not Roberta Bishop”. Robert Bishop was Roberta’s brother-in-law. He was a nice enough fellow for someone whose brother ran off and deserted his wife. He and his wife Effie had lived on the other end of town, down the street from the mill. He had been a supervisor at the mill and lived in a nicer, more expensive house. Only thing was that he had died a couple of years before. Roberta had always liked Robert, he came over occasionally to do some carpentry work or plumbing but she had never liked Effie. I never before knew why but was about to find out.

I was a child of the ’60s

I was a child in the sixties
dreams could be held through TV
With Disney, and Cronkite, and Martin Luther
Oh, I believed, I believed . . I BELIEVED

Thanks to Nanci Griffith

Like many of my generation “I believed, I believed …I BELIEVED”. Or at least I tried to believe. Believe in progress, believe in the future, believe in an unnamed hope. But I ultimately believed in the ability of modern man to “fix” everything. Science, education, culture, rock and roll would save the human race. The great potential of our generation was “us”. But as time went on the “belief” seemed to be misplaced and misspent. So around 1971 or 72 after being “pestered” by my best friend’s roommate I placed my belief in someone else. An intenerate Jewish rabbi who lived 2000 years ago and claimed to be God Almighty.

During the time  of my wandering I found a lot of comfort and insight in the songs of the Birds. I can still remember seeing Easy Rider for the first time, not knowing the ending, and basking in the songs of Roger McGuinn and the Byrds. Well turns out that along the road Roger found Jesus also, or better said, Jesus found him. It is a bold thing to say that an itinerant Jewish rabbi, who lived 2000 year ago was actually God and man in one person and that he was the most important person in your life. It is sometimes comforting to come to understand that someone else from your generation, also believed this impossible, glorious story. Roger McGuinn is one of those persons for me.

Roger McGuinn in the early days

This is how he expressed it one time in an interview:

Roger McGuinn said: Here’s an excerpt from my autobiography, a work in progress:In 1977, I found a young man sitting in my front yard one day. He said Jesus wanted him to give me some songs he’d written. I thought he was crazy, and I didn’t want to have anything to do with him or his songs. I went into the house and locked all the doors. Finally the man went away. But something strange had started happening to me.Another Christian appeared at a show in Oklahoma City. This fellow was grinning at me from the bottom of a flight of stairs. Normally, I would have ignored him, but I was high on cocaine, and I found his grin rather irritating. I asked him what he was grinning about and he said, “The Lord just told me that you’re going to come to him.” I thought he was crazy. Soon after that, I ran into a friend and we ended up talking about religion. I told her I believed Jesus was just one of the prophets, and that all spiritual roads spiraled to the same peak at the top of the mountain. She told me that Jesus was the only way to get to God. I’d never heard anyone whom I respected tell me that before. Her words left a strong impression on me.Elvis Presley had just died, and that really shook me up. He was a victim of prescription drugs. I had been taking prescription drugs for years—speed and Quaaludes, both of which apparently Elvis had depended upon heavily. I was doing illegal drugs as well, and Elvis was only seven years older than I was when he died. I thought, “Man, I’ve only got seven years left,” and I panicked. The functioning lobes of my brain began demanding that I investigate what was going on spiritually in the world. Some self-preservation instincts were kicking in. Suddenly a horrible new feeling began to plague me. It felt as though an elephant was standing on my chest and my arms were as heavy as lead.Right after I began to experience this sensation, I met a jazz piano player named Billy. He was a Christian, and when I told him about the “heavy” feeling, he thought it was spiritual oppression. He prayed with me, asking God to take the feeling away, but nothing happened. The crushing feeling came and went. One day I prayed, “Oh, Lord, how can I keep from feeling like this?” An answer came to my spirit: “Well, you could accept Jesus.” I said silently, “All right, I accept Jesus.” The “heavy” feeling left me and I could feel the Holy Spirit moving in me physically. It felt good to have Jesus in my heart. That was over twenty years ago.

More recent pic

 

 

One of the things about Roger that I find interesting  is that he does not record “Christian music” (the older I get the less and less I think that “Christian” should be used as any kind of modifier). In an interview once when an interviewer asked him about “being born again” and sort of asking him if he was still a Christian and if so why didn’t he do ‘Christian music’. He replied this way: “Yes I’m still a believer, but don’t do ‘Christian’ music, I’m a folk singer. His passion from the time he started recording until now has been the what he calls traditional music. He has spent the last 15-20 years preserving this great heritage. You can find more of this by Googling “The Folk Den Project”. You can even sign up for a monthly recording by McGuinn as I Podcast on ITunes.

I remember seeing Bono interviewed one time and as the subject of faith come up he said he really got put out at some award presentations when a person would stand up and begin by saying “First of all I want to thank God …” Bono said sometimes this was said about songs, movies, plays or whatever that were absolutely horrible in their content and he knew that God was up in heaven waving his arms back and forth and saying “No, no don’t listen to him (or her) I had absolutely nothing to do with that project”.

McGuinn in his own quiet way is going what he believes God has called him to do, helping preserve the wonderful heritage of folk or traditional music. And I think that this is one project God is involved wiht. I for one am glad that he does. Last month (he releases a new song on the 1st of each month) the song was “The Bears Went Over the Mountain”. It thrills my heart to know that someone out there trying to make sure that children in the future will know the songs that I grew up singing with my family. In case you were wondering what the song is for this month it is before Christmas comes around.

I find it also encouraging to know that his wife of over 30 years, Camilla, is also a believer and they still travel together for his shows.

Roger and Camilla McGuinn

A Prayer for Every Day

Prayer is a vital part of our relationship with Jesus. It is half of the conversation that takes place in this relationship. Prayer is our constant link to the Trinity in all the fullness of God’s glory. We struggle,however, with prayer. Part of the struggle is with the question about prayer and spontaneity. Some how we wonder if prayer has to be spontaneous to be real, while others being more liturgical in their worship and lifestyle think that “a better thought out prayer” is superior to their own and so only use printed prayers.

I believe that there is great value in both. God wants to hear directly from our hearts and so spontaneous prayers is necessary. At the same time many of the prayers we have written for us by saints who have gone before express better what we often need than we actually know ourselves.

So today, second day of Advent, as snow gently blows around here in Middle Tennessee let me offer what has become a prayer that I find highly usable every day and a prayer that often expresses the very desires from my heart. It is adopted from the Book of Common Prayer.

Deliver me, Lord, from the way of sin and death.

Open my heart to your grace and truth.

Fill me with your holy and life-giving Spirit.

Keep me in the Faith and communion of your holy church.

Teach me to love others in the power of the Spirit.

Send me into the world in witness to your love.

Bring me to the fullness of your peace and glory. Amen.


Christmas in Roebuck Junction – Part 1

It was December 18, 1963 and I was spending the week with my aunt Roberta. She wasn’t really my aunt. Like many folks in the South and throughout the country for all I know I had a few folks that I called aunt or uncle or cousin who really were not my relative but were close friends of my parents or grandmothers. In Roberta’s case it was my grandmother on my mother’s side. Roberta live next door to my grandmother in Roebuck Junction, NC when they were both “just young things, all pretty and full of life” as my grandmother used to say. When granddaddy got a job in Charlotte they moved away but she and Roberta were still best of friends and we would often visit her during the summer. Roebuck Junction was a small mill town where most of the whole town worked for Mr. R. J. Bledsoe who owned the local textile mill. Its not much of a place now with the mill closed down and all of the younger folks having moved out. Like most of the folks in town my aunt Roberta worked in the mill for Mr. R. J Bledsoe. She worked at the mill because of her “no good husband, Earle  run off and left her alone with no money, no provisions and no children” as granddaddy used to say. That was one of the reasons I was staying with aunt Roberta. She needed someone to help out around Christmas: putting up the tree, cutting holly and mistletoe, putting up the decorations. She also tended to get lonely and a little weepy during the holidays and I was always her favorite. The other reason that I was there was that it was just plain fun.

 

I grew up in the city and so Christmas in a small mill town was a big surprise for me. I really did not know what to expect but aunt Roberta made the best fried chicken in the world so I was willing to try it out. Looking back on it now, Roebuck Junction was a wonderful, peaceful town that offered the added benefit of the possibility of snow for Christmas. A wonder that never was a possibility in Columbia, SC. At age 10, however, it just seemed to me to be a nothing, redneck small town with nothing to do. This was in the days before cable TV and video games and so as I was all alone while aunt Roberta went off to work every morning there was little to do other than the chores that she left for me to do.

Roebuck Junction, however, turned out to be a wonderful adventure. The town center was located on the northern part of town and Mr. Bledsoe’s textile mill on the other. Most of the houses (owned by Mr. Bledsoe and the company) were scattered in the area in between. That meant that most everything was in walking distance of aunt Roberta’s house. I had been to stay with her before and all of the merchants uptown knew me. I could walk into most any store and be recognized by the owner. It often resulted in some great surprise. Everyone in town knew about aunt Roberta’s situation and “that no good Earle Bishop who had just gotten the wonder lust and taken off” (as Tootsie Landis had said one time when I went into his Bar and Grill one day. It was called a Bar and Grill but it was really more of just a Grill because Roebuck Junction was in a dry county. Tootsie was a big man with a single, bushy eyebrow that covered both eyes and met in the center of his forehead. He made the best burgers in town and told me that he would give me a free lunch once a week for every week I helped out aunt Roberta. Well that week I walked down town about lunch time and walked into Tootsie’s and he asked me if I was ready for a hamburger. I told him sure enough and sat down at the counter and watched him cook the burger on his huge griddle. I sat down right away because Roberta told me never to go around to the section where the pool tables were because that was where the “low lifes” hung out. So I sat down next to Mr. Jean Beudrox. He had moved to Roebuck Junction after he met Audrey Sprinkle during WWII. He was a soldier from Lake Charles, Louisiana and had met Audrey at a USO canteen in England. She had signed up to help with the war effort. She was fascinated by Mr. Beudrox’s accent and said he was just a big teddy bear. They had moved back to Roebuck Junction because Audrey could not think of leaving her parents. Mr. Beudrox asked me if I was ready for Christmas and I told him I was. He asked me about Roberta and what we were going to have for Christmas. I told him a turkey I guessed. He told me that if I really wanted a great Christmas dinner I should step around to his house where they were having Turducken. I said what is that. He old me that in Louisiana they went out and shot a duck, cleaned it and then went out to the yard, killed a turkey and a chicken. You took the duck and stuffed it inside the chicken and then stuffed the chicken inside the turkey. Good eatin’ he said and judging from his 300 + pounds I figured he had eaten a few turduckens in his time.

 

© 2010 LeRoy H. Ferguson, III. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without permission, unless otherwise noted.