With Thanksgiving still looming large in the rear view mirror, a chance comment I heard the other day concerning the cooking time for frozen turkeys jogged my memory back 45 years to my junior year at Attleboro High School, and an anecdote inspired by a skit I wrote for our Thanksgiving Day football rally against North.
In our day, rallies were usually held in the school gym on Friday afternoons before big football or basketball games. The three classes of students - sophomores, juniors and seniors - would vie for " the class with the most school spirit" with cheering competitions judged by faculty members. There was nearly always a gag cheering exhibition performed by senior boys dressed in drag as cheerleaders, and also any students could stage "comedy skits" related to the upcoming game and opponent.
As a sophomore I had seen the possibilities for combining school spirit tinged with a wee bit of mischief through the use of storylines and innocent inside jokes, generally aimed at the opponent or somewhat pompous faculty members or other school figures.
From the first, these comic bits seemed to strike a chord with fellow students (and not a few teachers!). So whenever a rally was coming up I'd usually get a raft of questions about whether we'd have something for it.
I would spend the night loosely writing up the storyline, plot and a number of joke lines. To round out the cast for these skits, I usually enlisted good friends Tony Delutis, Alan Plante and anybody else interested in walking the tightrope between possible detention and suspension - our jags straddled that fine a line.
While I don't recall details about the bit we did for the 1967 Turkey Day rally, the pertinent facts are these: one of my pals who lived on a farm rustled up a live turkey, which was then (harmlessly) dyed red to represent the pre-game North squad. One fine actor, he did his role justice by strutting a couple of laps around the gym gobbling loudly, each time eliciting laughter.
He even made a few mock runs at the Bombardier Eagle (me in an awful bird costume) before being led to the locker room as a team of three kids in blue and three kids in red staged a two-minute representational football game, won by AHS, of course, with a Hail Mary pass. Then, as the "Hilda Trophy" was awarded, the Bombardier Eagle crossed to accept it holding a rope behind which trailed a plucked and trussed-up frozen turkey - obtained by classmate Bobby "Beak" Camara, who worked in frozen foods at Fernandes after school.
The bit and the jokes got some good laughs and the rally went well, after which we put everything away where it belonged and returned the live turkey to the farm from whence it came. We all looked forward to a great holiday, a game victory and almost two weeks' vacation from school as we drove off the lot that afternoon.
Returning to classes 10 or 11 days later, fat from turkey and a week of turkey sandwiches, I was comfortably settled in Ted Thibodeau's English Composition class when the intercom crackled to life. The familiar voice of principal Joseph Joyce said only, "Thomas McAvoy to the office please!"
This kind of summons never ended well for me, and as I trudged to administration I searched my mind, but came up empty. Hell, I hadn't even been in school for the past two weeks! Opening the door to Mr. Joyce's office, chief custodian Clarence Fischback and Tony Delutis were already in attendance, but this odd combination clued me in not a bit.
The first couple of minutes Mr. Joyce only recited questions which I was able to answer with one word: "Did I take part in the rally on the last day of classes?" "Yes, of course I did. Mr. Joyce was there and saw it himself!" "Was our skit the final one on the program?" "Yes, it was." "Did we employ birds in staging it?"
(Aha, I thought, a clue... Maybe my buddy's farmer father objected to seeing one crimson turkey out of the hundreds roaming the yard...)
I slowly nodded my head and murmured, "Yes, sir."
At this point, events may have resolved on a sober and serious level. But it was then that Mr. Joyce, arm out and palm up, gave the floor over to Clarence, the school's chief custodian. A fine, hard-working man, Clarence nonetheless had a bit of a gift for being comical at those moments when he was most serious, usually by the way he phrased things.
"Well, I'll tell you," he began, "after the break I come into school early to get it ready for classes, and for the most part everything was OK. Until then I walk into the room, and ... I don't know, there were ... fumes, these awful awful fumes, so bad I almost got sick!"
At this point he placed his hands to his stomach, and I made the mistake of locking eyes with Tony.
"And these fumes, this bad smell, I'm saying to myself where is it coming from? I covered up my mouth and nose and looked around, and then I hear this buzzing and resolve these big flies around something black sitting on a bench..."
With this, from my left I heard Tony snort loudly, and the dam broke. If I had stifled the laugh that was coming up from my gut I would have hurt something inside very badly, so I had to just let it go. Tony immediately made it a duet, but Clarence was on a roll, reenacting his horrid discovery.
"So I got gloves and I picked this thing up and run it outside, and outside, what do you think I find - it's a turkey, a spoiled rotten smelly black turkey!!"
At this point, Mr. Joyce tried to restore decorum, saying, "Boys, this is not funny." But deep down inside he knew it was, and he knew the battle was lost, and we knew the battle was lost, just like when you start laughing in church.
At long last I was able to choke out, "Clarence, we're awful sorry, but I thought Tony had taken..."
Tony just gasped, "and I thought Moose was gonna ..." before we both returned to the laughter we could not control.
Of course, we each had thought the other was disposing of the frozen turkey, so it was an honest mistake. But the mental images just kept assaulting our better sense. Fortunately, Mr. Joyce was a great guy who saw it for what it was, and he allowed Tony and I to return to class still wiping tears from our cheeks after another apology (which was sincere, despite appearances) to poor Clarence.
Years after graduation, I was talking with Mr. Joyce in Capron Park and he confessed to me that he had been afraid he was going to "pop a double hernia" reining in his mirth that day.
Friends on the mend
Get-well wishes this week are extended to old friends Jim Pinocci, Rollie Sabourin, Tony Vivierios, Yen Correia, Don O'Brien, Iris O'Brien, Edna Mitchell and big Mike Zarek. Rapid recoveries are wished for all.
I want to remember to extend a special vote of thanks and a fond remembrance for all our World War II veterans, living and dead on this 71st anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Blessings on every one of you.
Parting thoughts
Condolences to the family of Clair M (Lennon) Henry, widow of Dominick Henry, especially to her children and their spouses: Brenda Schofield, Mary P. Aguiar and Joseph, Master Sgt. Kevin Henry and Denise, Brian Henry, Shannon Henry, Timothy Henry and our friend Lori (Heap) Henry, Sheila Henry-Meier and Thomas, and to her many grandchildren. Sympathy also to her brother, John Lennon.
Sympathy to the family of old friend Ralph Zito, especially to his wife of many years, Cecile (St. Pierre) Zito, and also to my old friends and schoolmates, Alphonse and Betsy Zito. Sympathy also to his daughters Pamela Frowhitter and husband Joseph, Linda Zito and partner Dalida; and his brothers also long-time friends Michael Zito and Raymond Zito; and to sister Joanna Martel.
Condolences to the family of Leona D. Rushlow, especially to her sons and their spouses: Dale P. and Susan Rushlow and Kevin M. and Debra Rushlow; and her daughters and their spouses, Denise and Edward Tetreault and Doreen M. And Michael Morin. Sympathy also to Leona's brother, my longtime friend, Louis D Kelley, and also to nine grandchildren and seven great-grandchildren.
Sympathy to the family of my dear friend and classmate, Ann M. (Nolin) Berndt, the widow of yet another friend and classmate, Allen Berndt Jr. Condolences especially to her two daughters, Kristen A Barber and husband Andrew and Jennifer Berndt; to her sister, Joan Nolin; and also to her two grandchildren, Madalyn Mae and Meghan Elizabeth Barber.
Finally deep and sincere condolences to the family of a wonderful lady, my late mother's dear friend and coworker, Edith L.(Arvidson) Layton, R.N.; to her children, my old friend and classmate, Robert A Layton and his wife Linda, Judith M. Whiteacre and husband Glenn, and Richard A. Layton and wife Lisa. Sympathy also to her eight grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren.
Please be good to one another out there and try to do a good turn daily, especially in this joyous season; please try to keep the less fortunate in mind, the hungry and the homeless. Keep love and kindness in your heart when dealing with others, because it will ripple out in all directions! Peace...