Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Talking Turkey


I am bilingual.
Oh, not in the way you imagine.
My second language really isn't that practical.
Truth be told, I don't even know what I'm saying.
But the fact remains that I can speak another language.
Maybe I should explain . . .
My kids and I loved spending time at Fort Edmonton Park.
It's a stroll through Edmonton's history.
There's a bona fide re-creation of an 1846 fort.
And a small town.
Comprised of 'dated' streets.
1885 Street, devoted to life in Edmonton when dust and mud were king and electricity was something only Jules Verne imagined.
1905 Street, when modern dreams were beginning.
And 1920 Street, where modern conveniences and votes for women have become reality.
There are shops and residences with actors portraying very real Edmontonians of the past.
It was (and is) fun.
And we loved it.
We spent nearly every Thursday there throughout the summer.
Walking on stilts.
Playing games.
Eating baking fresh from the ovens.
Visiting the shops.
Inter'acting' with the actors.
It was a great way to spend a day.
Then we found the flock of turkeys behind one of the residences.
And that's when I discovered that I could speak a second language.
Turkeys make a distinct 'mmmmbladladladladladladladladl' sound.
And I could mimic it.
Really.
You want to talk talent?
We stood at the side of their large pen and I 'talked' to them.
The male got quite animated.
He ruffled his feathers and puffed up his facial dangly bits and marched around importantly.
It was very entertaining.
The kids would urge me on. “Come on Mom! Say something else!”
And I'd do my mmmmbladladladladladladladladl.
And the turkey would get apoplectic.
We even drew a crowd.
“Look! That woman can talk to the turkeys.”
Okay. Sometimes, you have to look for your entertainment.
And you have to admit that not everyone can talk turkey.
P.S. Guinea Pigs and I also have a history.

Bonus:
Gram and Gramp . . . and Me.
From Delores' wonderful Monday PhotoPrompt.
Delores' picture of she and her grandparents

Gram was in the kitchen, cooking so efficiently,
Gramp was in his easy chair and I was on his knee.
Their kindly ways and gentle spirits touched so tenderly,
Way back in the early days of Gram and Gramp . . . and me.

He was a rancher, cattleman; and honest to a 'T'.
She helped and worked right by his side and served so faithfully.
The two of them raised children strong and loved their family,
E'en before those early days of Gram and Gramp . . . and me.

When I was four, my Grampa died; he passed on peacefully,
Gram carried on as best she could, preserved his legacy.
But when I stop and think at bit, I cannot help but see,
There weren't enough of those early days of Gram and Gramp . . . and me.

My own Gram and Gramp` Stringam on their 50th wedding anniversary

16 comments:

  1. Now that gives a whole new meaning to "talking turkey" doesn't it?
    Beautiful poem Diane. You seem to have a direct route to my tear ducts these days.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Bilingualism. Who knew?!
      I'm so glad you enjoyed my poem! You started it!

      Delete
  2. Fort Edmonton Park, we were there during the International Antique Auto Meet when Edmonton hosted it in 2007. I thoroughly enjoyed the day there and hope for another one in the near future. As far as talking Turkey is concerned, we siblings are good at talking Stringlish. Ever notice how we incorporate words and expressions from Looney Tunes, MAD Magazine, Cycletoons and Hot Rod Cartoons into our ordinary conversations? My better half still has a hard time with it but she's getting better.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Any place is a good place if there are vintage cars there! I love our Stringlish. It's . . . expressive. And stylish. Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!

      Delete
    2. Stringlish? Any relation to Tolleybobble?

      Delete
  3. Talking turkey just took on a whole new meaning for me. What, I wonder, did you actually say to that male turkey?!

    I loved the homage to your grandparents!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's my problem. I don't know! I'm not sure if he was angry . . . or trying to flirt with me! Speaking a language is a whole lot different than understanding it, isn't it?! :)

      Delete
  4. Your posts are some of my favorite ones. I love reading your stories and they almost always bring memories of my own childhood. I am smiling on the Turkey. The Gram and Gramps one was lovely and out popped some memories of just me with my own grandparents.
    Blessings for this one!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much, LeAnn! That's exactly what I'm trying to do. Help people remember their own childhood. The best of times!

      Delete
  5. Well, that's a long way from "tsk tsk tsk" to catch a cat's attention and intice him to come over. I'm usually telling an animal "Move." Or, "I don't have eyes in my feet."

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You should try 'mmmmbladladladladladladladladl' and see what your residents think of that!

      Delete
  6. I know how you feel about your gramps, I was 9 years old when mine died and I really missed out on having someone who thought I was amazing. He really loved me, I have been told and he always made me feel special when I visited :)

    ReplyDelete
  7. My but you are talented, Dr. Doolittle! Thanks for a good laugh and for linking up with us at NOBH.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Yep. I can talk. I just can't listen. Sigh.

    ReplyDelete

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Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .

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