TIGHT LINES
GIVING THANKS
with Andrew Spencer
It's that time of year again when we all try to travel despite the warnings that it's the worst time of the year to do so, only to eat ourselves stupid on Turkey Day, then do all the travelling in reverse. Well, this year yours truly is putting a stop to the madness. That's right, kids. I'm not travelling. I'm staying right here in River City and getting together with a bunch of friends. And what's more, this year I'm trying to keep the overeating to a minimum.

With all the time I save by not travelling and not eating myself into a three-day-long food coma, I've got all kinds of stuff I'm going to get done. There's always that pesky chore of cleaning out the garage and getting it organized. I've also got plenty of yard work to do, including cutting up an old tree that got blown down during the recent meteorological unpleasantness. Of course, I've got to do a little work here and there at one of my various jobs, which is yet another one of those little life nuisances.

Now that I sit and think about it, I'm kind of thinking that fighting all the powers-that-be in the travel industry, as well as the other hordes of people travelling, isn't such a bad idea after all. I mean, seriously. This Thanksgiving "holiday" is looking more like a hard-labor sentence.

The "turkey" table at Bartlett's Farm. PHOTO BY JILL SANDOLE

The garage is, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, a disaster on the order of an F-5 tornado's wake. I blame my father for this situation, because this is clearly a genetic trait I picked up from him. The whole idea of putting a car in the garage, in the Spencer household, is more of a colloquial idea we all think is kind of cute in theory, but one that we know doesn't actually exist in reality. Except for Mom, who is still convinced she can cram a car in with all of Dad's junk…er, important stuff.

And don't get me started on yard work. I loathe yard work. I'm not a gardener and I'm not one of those, "I've got the greenest lawn in town" guys. Basically I look at yard work the same way that Willie Wonka look at walking. "My dear boy," Mr. Wonka once said, "if the Good Lord had wanted us to walk, He never would have invented roller skates." My feelings exactly. And what's more, I'd like to add that if the Good Lord had wanted yours truly to rake leaves, He never would have invented college football season.

And then there's the litany of jobs. Gotta work to pay the bills, gotta pay the bills to stay alive, right? And especially now that it's getting colder and the heating bills start piling up, that whole paycheck thing starts to gain a wee-bit more importance. And am I the only one who finds the whole concept of property taxes to be a painful reality? And just to add insult to injury, apparently the bank doesn't actually give you any gifts for holidays; they sort of expect you to have the money in your account. Silly bankers.

So now the more I look at it, the less this is looking like a holiday. And you know what I'd like to do more than anything? Go fishing.

I realize that this is, quite possibly, the lamest segue of the season, but bear with me. It's gonna' get better. And besides, didn't the Pilgrims use dead fish as fertilizer per the Native Americans' instructions, and that was the whole point of the first Thanksgiving.

I'd love to go fishing right about now, because the air still isn't too cold to be miserable and I'm still getting reports about bass in a couple of local ponds. I'd be grateful - very much so - to be out there fishing with some buddies instead of laboring at the house. A fishing trip is something I'd be willing to give thanks for.

And just when I was all set to pack up the stuff and head out to Sesachacha Pond, it hit me like a freight train. There's a saying that I heard once upon a time about your car breaking down and leaving you stranded on the side of the road, forcing you to walk to the nearest service station. When that happens to you, the saying told me, think of the person stuck in a wheelchair who'd love to be able to take that walk. And the same holds true for the little inconveniences in my life, because really and truly, that's all they are. In fact, in a manner of looking at things, they're a luxury. Lots of people out there would love to have a garage to clean out, not to mention the physical ability to do it. Ditto the yard work. And as for jobs, I'd rather have too much work to do than not have any at all.

In that spirit of thinking, Bartlett's Farm recently sponsored a donation program for the Nantucket Food Pantry, where patrons of the Farm could purchase a bag of food to be donated to the NFP for Thanksgiving. For the younger would-be donors out there that might not have the funds to buy the whole bag, Sherri Moran came up with the idea of allowing kids to donate a dollar to the Food Pantry, in exchange for which they get their name on a turkey tail feather at the "Donation Station." So thank you to the Bartlett family and their crew up at the Farm, as well as to all of those who donated. You help put at least one us of in the right frame of mind for the holiday. And what's more, I understand they're planning to do the same thing for Christmas, so just tuck that factoid away and remember it in a few weeks.

But for right now, if you'll excuse me, there's a bunch of work that needs to get done around this house, and I'm starting to think I might actually enjoy doing it.

Tight lines. And Happy Thanksgiving. I