Daves Cooks the Turkey..

The main character, Dave, In Stuart McLean's short story, "Dave Cooks the Turkey", is put in charge of "looking after the turkey" to make Christmas stress free and fun again for his wife. Little did Dave know that "looking after the turkey [...] meant buying it as well as putting it in the oven." Some of the humor in this short story in created using exaggerations. When Dave couldn't find a turkey in either freezer he "unloaded both freezers to be sure." After pouring himself some scotch and pacing around the kitchen worrying Dave called himself a taxi. "At 4:00 am, with the help of a taxi driver named Mohamed, Dave found an open store" and bought himself a grade B turkey. At the time he hadn't a clue what grade B meant but it was the least of his worries, it was the last turkey in the only open store on Christmas eve. He returned home and set out to prepare the turkey as it defrosted "it became clear what grade B meant. [...] Dave's turkey looked like it had made a break from the slaughter house and dragged itself a block or two before it was captured and beaten to death." The story begins to get out of hand as Dave pours himself another scotch, starts referring to the bird as Butch, and then discovers a lock on his stove. Dave then goes to a hotel, checks in, and asks them to cook the turkey for him. This short story does a very good job of using exaggerations to create humor and teaches Dave to never underestimate the obligation of cooking the Christmas turkey.

Certain experiences mark the beggining of maturity.

Certain things happen that mark the beginning of maturity. For some, maturity comes smoothly, but others encounter circumstances that thrust them into maturity. I was an individual who wasn't given a chance to mature naturally. My mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was a mere eight years old. The cancer spread fast and developed tumors in her brain. She didn't have a fleeting chance.

Now, you think that being only eight years old I wouldn't know enough about what was going on around me to be faced with the repercussions. My father would have stepped up and been strong for all of us. But with the lose of my mother, the love of his life, my father quickly fell to pieces. He was an early bird who started sleeping in till noon. He no longer ran each morning as he had in the past and my father left my mothers stuff in the closet for years.

I had a little sister, 5 years old, wondering "When is mommy coming home from her business trip?" I became a mother to my sister and a shoulder for my father. When I was eleven we started going to therapy. Though no one was fooled, my father did his best to pretend everything was perfect. Without a true mother figure my sister became a manipulative brat. She stormed around and made her demands. Dad became her victim, letting her do as she pleased.

After some time had past my dad continued on with most of his fatherly duties. I took over as many roles as I could. My roles grew as I did. I got my sister ready in the mornings and to bed at night when I was too little to help with much else. By the time I was driving I had a part-time job, and had practically raised my sister. I took her where she needed to go, packed her lunch, I did the laundry, and I cooked when I was home. With all of this and my schoolwork you can imagine I wasn't someone who had a very large social circle. I had more responsibilities and felt older than anyone I knew.

I matured at a very young age. For most, maturity is marked by new responsibilities such as getting your drivers license at age sixteen, graduating from high school at age eighteen, or moving away to university at age nineteen. But for me, maturity was marked by the lose of my mother at age eight.