Much like Paul Bunyan is said to have carved the Grand Canyon by dragging his axe behind him, we learn early in A Christmas Story that when The Old Man battles the family furnace, he generates a cloud of profanity that hangs over Lake Michigan to this day much like John Henry could drive steel by hand faster than a new-fangled steam drill, so can The Old Man change a blown spark plug faster than a jackrabbit on a date. The Old Man-father to 9-year-old Ralphie and his kid brother Randy and seen so exclusively from their perspective that he’s never granted a proper name-is a tall tale figure in his home. One’s heart aches because a turkey dinner is not just a turkey dinner. And so one’s heart aches for the loss of the Parkers’ future leftovers, and for the dashed gustatory hopes and dreams of The Old Man. Of course, we all know The Old Man is a turkey junkie, a bona fide garley turkicanus freak whose eyes gleam with a wild and ravenous light for days before he carves his beloved bird. Because-as that mythic patriarch The Old Man roars, his voice so thick with emotion that he seems to achieve a register beyond human speech-the sons of bitches Bumpuses have allowed their at least 785 smelly hound dogs to invade the family’s kitchen and obliterate their Christmas feast.
A turkey dinner is an entire week of turkey dinners.Īnd the Parker family will have none of it. And, of course, it’s gallons of turkey soup. It’s turkey salad, turkey gravy, turkey hash. “It is only when we have plenty to eat-plenty of everything-that we begin to understand what freedom means.”Ī turkey dinner is not just a turkey dinner.Īs we’re reminded in the shattering climax of A Christmas Story, a turkey dinner is turkey sandwiches.
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