|Dad in his yard|
They meld except for one particular time at Mama's house in Raleigh, NC. We still had three kids at home and my folks lived down the street from us. Our grandparents, Papa and Grandma Tippett, lived about 45 minutes away. So a large clan was coming.
We prepared the dinner together so I came to her house early. "Mmmmm, smells good!" Her kitchen always did but especially on Thanksgiving Day.
"Kathy, you know Papa doesn't like turkey. Did you make him some chicken?"
"Not exactly. . ." I stalled.
"How do you not exactly cook chicken?" Mama probed.
"I got a plan. No chicken but another small platter. I'll take some of your turkey and arrange it on a special plate to present to Papa."
"Uh-oh. You're heading for trouble, Kathy," Mama warned, backing away from me and culpability.
|Dad, skeptical, stayed a safe distance.|
Every Tippett knew Papa didn't like turkey. "Never tasted it but I know I wouldn't like it." Maybe because he raised chickens but his picky tastes had never been tested. Until this Thanksgiving.
Dinnertime filled the table with Tippetts and food, both overflowing. After Daddy asked the blessing, he passed the turkey around. I rose, went to the kitchen and came back with the special platter. "And just for you, Papa, CHICKEN!" I proclaimed a bit too enthusiastically. My dad watched as his dad took the plate from me. When he speared the dark meat and took a mouthful, we watched without a word. He chewed and chewed, finally swallowing. We looked like a Normal Rockwell painting with only one moving person.
Papa peered at me, pursed his lips and squinted, "Kathy? Did you cook this?"
"Yes sir," I gulped.
"Best chicken I ever tasted!" he declared. Reprieved! We all sighed and enjoyed the meal. Papa even asked for seconds on the best chicken he ever ate!
He's in heaven now with Mom and Dad. Did we ever tell him? Absolutely not! And I hope some truths are not known even in glory!
Pictured below are other family times.
|Family Christmas at folks'|
|Papa was a cock-fighter! Wyatt Whitaker was his cohort in violence.|
|Mom and Dad with Katy at our house|
|Gwen and me with Papa|
|Grandma stealing sugar from Papa|