At the time this is printed and circulated, most of you will have already had your turkey bird dinner on Thanksgiving and maybe even had the obligatory nap afterwards. And as written about in the last column, Ol’ Dutch and Miss Trixie will be with my son Bub’s and his family for the celebration and eats. 

I have been fortunate in attending a lot of Holiday meals and if you take a look at me, you will probably affirm that with a big “Amen.”  Regardless of the number of times that I have been to such doin’s, there is always something to be learned at any gathering of people for a meal. One of the first times I was around Miss Trixie’s mother, Miss Billie, I remember that she always had a dessert to serve, and it was a real treat. 

When it came to serving dessert, though, Miss Billie got serious because desserts are supposed to go on clean plates. No way was she gonna let Ol’ Dutch put a piece of pie on a plate I had just cleared of food. And no matter how many times I protested and told her to save a plate to wash, no one ever ate any banana pudding with vanilla wafers from her kitchen on their dinner plate. 

I did find this funny in a way as for a good share of my life I had been pretty careful not to let food from different groups even touch on my plate. Perhaps my sojourn with bachelorhood made me more conscious of plates I used and had to wash for at some point, and so I learned to mix my food even before it wound up all together in my stomach.  

Miss Trixie practices a few of her mother's tricks, too, so it seems. There is one, though harmless, galls me even to this day. For some unknown reason, she insists on small glasses – often Tupperware – with our meals. Now I don't know who all Miss Trixie had served in the past or who she had ever fetched a drink for, but I have to wonder if it was for little kids as Ol’ Dutch needs a big drink with his meal. 

Miss Trixie's people settled in Texas before it was a country and somehow, they learned to get by on short cups and short moisture in an otherwise brutal and hot climate. I am truly surprised that they didn't come down with a severe case of dehydration and heat stroke taking water and other vital liquid sustenance in tiny, shot-sized plastic green Tupperware cups. Ol’ Dutch did try to adapt and accommodate such goings on, but I found out that as soon as I drank the allotted amount in the green cup, I was thirstier still which required multiple fill-ups and stares from the Texans about drinking so much. 

These short drinks carried over to the RV park gatherings I was soon involved with and some of the old guys told me the reason they don’t drink more as it makes them pee at night. Now I don't know what kind of camper they had but mine had a bathroom, and I was about four short steps to the door from my bed, so my motto was drink up. 

And in my defense, my constant thirst may have come from my great-grandfather. He was one of the early founders in the old West town of Dodge City, Kansas, famous for the storied Long Branch Saloon and Wyatt Earp fame. A lot of drinking happened there. In memory of him and others who may have partaken of drinks of all kinds down through the ages I make a toast. As Shamus Tobin in the 1964 movie “The Unsinkable Molly Brown,” said, “Belly up, belly up to the bar, boys.” 

Enjoy Black Friday and all things this Thanksgiving brings. 

Kevin Kirkpatrick spends his days fishing, hunting, ATVing, hiking or making people laugh. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. Additional news can be found at www.troutrepublic.com or on Twitter at TroutRepublic.