A Thanksgiving story about a turkey named Tom

In honor of Thanksgiving I would like to tell you about my favorite turkey of all time. His name was Tom, which is a good name for a turkey. He lived in Douglas, Wyoming with the Jim and Bobbi Herrick family. I met Tom many years ago. He was the friendliest turkey I had ever met. Truth be told he was the only turkey I ever met except on a plate. Tom was a pet: his owners vowed to never eat him.

Tom loved children. Many mornings he would follow them down Smylie Road to wait with them for the school bus. The driver would always leave Tom behind because turkeys are not allowed in classrooms. So Tom would return home in a fowl mood. Tom was also a champion belcher. He could burp better than any guy at any bar.

I wrote a short article about Tom. He became pretty famous. He got fan mail. One day, about a week before Thanksgiving, my phone rang. It was a producer at the Tonight Show. "We would like to have Tom burp on our show on Thanksgiving," she said. I said that sounded like an excellent idea. So I called the Herricks to see if they were interested.

Jim answered. "Oh, Tom can't do that," he said. "He was killed a few weeks ago. He was following the kids to the bus stop and someone went out of his way to hit him." Jim sounded sad and I think was sadder when he learned that the accident had cost him a free trip to Hollywood.

Anyway, that's my story about Tom. He was an entertaining bird who loved childen and aspired for an education. I will never forget him. I will think of Tom on Thursday as I eat one of his cousins.

I am water and so are you

It's been a long day of writing. A little earlier, almost done with my weekly newsletter, I needed a break. So I plopped down on my couch for a brief nap. My couch is way too comfortable to be in close proximity to my home office. It always temps me. "Chuck, come over here, lay yourself down and I will comfort you." That is what it says. Okay, that is not what it says. But that is what it could say if it were alive.

But being alive is what I want to write about. On that couch, in my pre-nap state, I became very aware of the pleasing sound of my small water fountain. It's a very nice sound. A soothing sound. I started thinking about why I liked it so much. Then I thought, "I know." It's because it's water!" And I knew then, as I still know, that I am made of about 60 percent water. I don't look like water or feel like water, but Wikipedia says I am 60 percent water, so I am pretty sure I am, really and truly, a water kinda guy. Actually, I'm basically a big glob of water. And it should be very apparent to me because I know from experience that when I get hot I begin to ooze out of myself. I believe that some times I have gone from 60 percent water to perhaps 58 percent water.

I have always wondered why people spend tons of money for a house with a view of water -- the ocean, a lake, even a stream. I think they must simply take great pleasure in looking at the same thing that they are made of even though it looks nothing at all like them.

I like the ocean and lakes and streams and beautiful water falls, and I even like my little gurgling, $25 water fountain. I think now the reason I like water is because I am water, well at least most of me except maybe bones.

America's cutest gas station needs some tender loving care

The Teapot Dome gas station just off Interstate 82 near Yakima, Wash., was looking pale and sickly when I passed by a few weeks ago. Paint is peeling, metal is rusting. The gas station in the shape of a teapot needs some tender loving care. The last we heard, the town of Zillah, where it is located, was working with Friends of the Teapot to raise money to move the historic structure into town where it can be protected.

So far, there is no visible damage from vandalism. Even though the outside is peeling, fading and rusting, the inside appears to be in excellent shape.

The tiny gas station is listed in the National Historic Register of Historic Places. The state of Washington recently declared it one of its "most endangered historic properties." It was built in 1922 as a political statement about the Teapot Dome Scandal, which rocked the nation during the Warren G. Harding presidency.

If you would like to make a donation to the Friends of the Teapot, call 509-829-5151 or 509-829-5200. A fund has been set up at a local bank.