The Turkey Baster

Turkey basters… mention that to my siblings or my oldest child and you’ll get a reaction that has nothing to do with being thankful or having a nice family dinner!  Grandma Lillian was known for many things, among them keeping a watchful eye on the bowels of the youngsters in her care. She raised 3 generations of kids and I’m sure she was proud that none of them ever died from constipation.  Not on her watch!

When we were kids it was expected that we’d make that trip to the bathroom each day, like clockwork, and you didn’t come out until you were done. I remember my little sister sitting on the toilet with a TV tray and paper dolls in front of her, staying put until she paid the ransom for her freedom. However, she liked paper dolls so most days she was in there awhile, regardless of her "status."  She was the most compliant of the three of us.  After I discovered that Grandma hid her “True Story” magazines in the bathroom closet, I got fairly compliant as well.

One particular evening we were having dinner around the table when she thought someone passed gas - a sure sign of bowel trouble. I still don’t know who, but my brother apparently seemed like the most likely culprit, so he took the fall.  Grandma tried to coerce him into the kitchen for a dose of the dreaded “Green Drops” – a thin, green liquid that tasted terrible. He said it was absolutely awful.  Another time it was my turn to take the blame, and it took Grandpa intervention to get me out to the kitchen for my dose.  I was determined to avoid it at all cost, but I remember Grandpa telling me to just do it and get it over with because nothing more was going to happen until I’d taken that vile spoonful.

Grandma was not above telling little white lies to keep us three hooligans in line – after all, besides being outnumbered, she stood about 4’10” so she did what she had to do. In one desperate attempt to keep us “regular” she told us if it didn’t come out one end, it would work its way out the other.  I’ll never forget the look on my brother’s face – much the same as the look on my face, I’m sure… I have to say, it was a relief when I eventually discovered it was not true.

But the worst fate that could happen was the turkey baster – one special item that had only one purpose, and it was kept in the bathroom for these “special occasions.”  The only kid I remember getting a “turkey baster enema” was my own son, who liked to exert his independence by refusing to poop.  But Grandma won that power struggle.  To this day, he still poops regularly, every single day, and you can set the clock by him.  Grandma would be proud.

So if you invite any of us over for Thanksgiving dinner and pull out the turkey baster, expect that we’ll all cringe just a little bit, and possibly even refuse to eat the turkey.  I was in my late 20s before I knew that the baster was invented with a completely different purpose!  Besides getting a cold chill down my spine at the sight of one, it also reminds me of the love she had for all the kids in her charge and how she’d do what had to be done to keep us safe and healthy. 

Miss you every day, Gram!