FED UP WITH ZYNGA SUNDAY EDITION November 18, 2012 Volume 13 ‘’TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE THANKSGIVING Contributed By: Maureen Mergenhagen ‘Twas the night before Thanksgiving, when all through the house, Just one creature was stirring and it wasn't a mouse Mom was in the kitchen, baking pies with care. In hopes she could produce some edible fare Daddy and I were hiding in my room under the bed, while visions of cooking disasters danced in our heads, My mother was frantic, her baking skills were the worst, Why hadn't she just called the bakery from the first? When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, Daddy and I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window we flew like a flash, tore mini blinds and poked a hole in the sash The moon on the breast of the lawn never mowed, gave the luster of mid-day to the toys scattered below. When what to our wondering eyes should appear? Burnt pie crust toppers shaped like reindeer. With a chef quickly following, tossing pies without care, I knew in a moment Mom was pulling out her hair. More rapid than eagles, her pies they all came. And she swore and she cursed and she tossed without shame. Now Pumpkin, Now Sweet Potato! Now Raisin Cranberry! On Apple! On Mincemeat! On Strudel with Cherry! To the top of the trash! To the Top of the Heap! I’m starting all over because I don’t need sleep! 1 FED UP WITH ZYNGA SUNDAY EDITION November 18, 2012 Volume 13 As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky. So up to the trash can the pies they all flew. I think they just wanted to escape from her too. And then in a twinkling I heard from the stove, Mom muttering about recipes that needed whole cloves. As I crept out of my bed and was just coming round, out of the kitchen Mom came with a bound. She was covered in flour from her head to her foot, and her eyes were all wild with recipes to cook. A bundle of pie pans she had flung on her back, she looked like a woman about to attack. Her hair was so wild! Her eyes were so scary. Her cheeks were aflame. Her nose covered in cherry. Her droll little mouth was drawn tight with no bow and the flour turned her fingers the color of snow. The stump of a spatula she held in her teeth. The smoke from her anger encircled her head like a wreath. She was muttering to herself and consulting her books. I could see right away she was not a good cook She was chubby and plump, and could be a jolly old elf. And I laughed when I saw her in spite of myself. A wink of her eye and a twist of her head, she told me to be smart and go back to bed, She spoke many words, while she went about her work, “I should have gone shopping instead of cooking like a jerk.” And laying a pie pan down alongside the stove, and giving a nod, to the front door she dove. She sprang to her car, to my Dad she gave a whistle, and away she flew, like the down of a thistle. But I heard her exclaim as she drove out of sight, “There better still be pies at the grocery store tonight!” My cooking is so bad my kids thought Thanksgiving was to commemorate Pearl Harbor. Phyllis Diller 2 FED UP WITH ZYNGA SUNDAY EDITION November 18, 2012 Volume 13 This Week in History The only confirmed photo of Abraham Lincoln (circled) at Gettysburg, taken about noon, just after Lincoln arrived and some three hours before the speech. To Lincoln's right is his bodyguard, Ward Hill Lamon. November 18, 1894 1st newspaper Sunday color comic section published (New York World) November 19, 1863 Lincoln delivers his address in Gettysburg; "4 score and 7 years...". November 20, 1888 William Bundy patents time card clock. The face shows employee numbers which would be dialed up by employees entering and leaving the factory. The day and time of entry and exit was punched onto cards inside the box November 21, 1877 Tom Edison announces his "talking machine" invention (phonograph) November 22, 1954 Saddle Bag Managing Editor Sandra Hugunin born in Tempe, Arizona November 23, 1859 US: Western outlaw, gunslinger, Billy the Kid (Bonney) born November 24, 1863 Union troops prevail at the Battle of Lookout Mountain "Every man is a fool for at least five minutes every day; wisdom consists of not exceeding the limit." Elbert Hubbard, printer, publisher 3 FED UP WITH ZYNGA SUNDAY EDITION November 18, 2012 Volume 13 First Thanksgiving The modern Thanksgiving holiday traces its origins from a 1621 celebration at the Plymouth Plantation, where the Plymouth settlers held a harvest feast after a successful growing season. This was continued in later years, first as an impromptu religious observance, and later as a civil tradition. Squanto, a Patuxet Native American who resided with the Wampanoag tribe, taught the Pilgrims how to catch eel and grow corn and served as an interpreter for them (Squanto had learned English while enslaved in Europe and during travels in England). Additionally the Wampanoag leader Massasoit had donated food stores to the fledgling colony during the first winter when supplies brought from England were insufficient. Tisquantum (Squanto)was kidnapped by Englishman Thomas Hunt in 1614. Hunt was one of John Smith's lieutenants. Hunt was planning to sell fish, corn, and captured natives in Málaga, Spain. There, Hunt attempted to sell Tisquantum and a number of other Native Americans into slavery in Spain for £20 apiece. Some local friars discovered what Hunt was attempting and took the remaining Native Americans — Tisquantum included — in order to instruct them in the Christian faith. Tisquantum convinced the friars to let him try to return home. He managed to get to London, where he lived with, and worked for a few years with John Slany, a shipbuilder. Slany apparently taught Tisquantum more English. Slany took Tisquantum with him when he sailed to Cuper's Cove, Newfoundland. To get to New England, Tisquantum tried to take part in an expedition to that part of the North American east coast. When that plan fell through, he returned to England in 1618. At last in 1619 Tisquantum returned to his homeland aboard John Smith’s ship. An optimist is a person who starts a new diet on Thanksgiving Day. 4 FED UP WITH ZYNGA SUNDAY EDITION November 18, 2012 Volume 13 Diary of Penelope Mary Gavner Contributed By: Maureen Mergenhagen December 3 Cold and windy, woke to a thin layer of ice everywhere. The tent was froze over it looked like an ice house. It was hard trying to move around or even build a fire. Pa got some coals from the community fire and started a sage fire and than added wood. The fire was hot, but the wind took away the warmth. We ate breakfast and tended the animals, I was going to go check on Annie's dog's puppies but couldn't even walk. The boys were slipping and sliding all over the place and Elijah slipped and cut is lip open and was confined to the wagon. Just before our Midday meal the wagon master gave the order to ready to leave. We packed up as quickly as we could. Ma putting the cream in the bucket and placing it under the wagon to churn butter for our supper. She made extra biscuits this morning and we ate them as we walked along the wagon's and some bison jerky. It was hard walking with the wind in our faces, and the ground was turning muddy with the ice melting, it was a mess. I was wet, cold and hungry and glad we stopped right before nightfall. We will be at Green River tomorrow. We will be crossing the river near where the Big Sandy river joins the Green river in Wyoming. With nearly one hundred wagons and stock it will take days before all are on the other side. December 4 We're here at Green River and it surely is green, a color so beautiful, never have I seen such a site. The Green River ranges from three feet to fifty feet here where we are. We encountered the Shoshone Indians here they are very peaceful and friendly, They crossed the river in canoes, they look like hallowed out trees and had been hand carved and float across soundlessly. The Shoshone help the fur traders by taking them across the river in the canoes or on rafts that they had built by tying logs together with rope, looks scary. The Shoshone call this Seeds-Kie-Dee-Agie the Prairie Hen River. The fur traders pay them with provisions of flour and dried meats. We spent the day fishing and had a great feast of fish for supper, the smell of the fish frying is so potent in camp to night. I don't think I will sleep too well. 5 FED UP WITH ZYNGA SUNDAY EDITION November 18, 2012 Volume 13 December 5 Everyone is getting their wagons ready to cross either on a raft or like Pa and us are doing. Pa and a few men had gone hunting this afternoon and took down a number of buffaloes they skinned them and cut up the meat and brought them back to camp.