Why is there always rain on Thanksgiving day? he asked. Dark clouds. Never any snow or sun, just dark clouds and rain. Been that way since I was a kid, he told him. Dad used to smoke a turkey overnight out in the rain. He’d come inside and watch Johnny Carson. Then go back outside in his rain gear and watch that the fire wasn’t going out. The old man would stay up till three or four in the morning watching that fire. Stoking those coals and wood. Hickory. He used hickory. And it always rained, he lit a cigarette and pulled open a beer. And now here I am. Out in the rain. Smoking a turkey. Hand me another piece of wood, the son-in-law handed him another piece of cherry. That’s the difference between us, he said. The old man used hickory, and I used cherry. I think it’s a better wood to smoke with. Some would disagree. They’re entitled to their opinion, the two men smiled.

Went hunting the other day, the kid said. Didn’t get anything. But, I heard a man got shot out there a few days ago.

Oh yeah? I didn’t see it on the news.

No. I didn’t either. Friend told me. Said it was intentional. Meant to do it.

I know what intentional means.

Were you out there a couple of days ago?

Yeah. I was.

So you heard about it too?

Like I said. First, I’ve heard. Don’t know anything about it.

Took place a couple of fields over.

Yeah. Who was it that got shot?

Boy from another county.

Did he have permission to hunt in that field?

Nobody’s talking.

Bet he didn’t. That’s usually how those things go, dad said. I’m sure the boys will figure it out.

Yeah. They’ll figure it out.

Hand me another piece of wood.

You ever wanted to kill a man?

Everyday. Hand me the baster.

Have you ever killed a man?

During the war, I did. Sure, I killed a few.

What was it like?

We don’t talk about things like that. Go inside and get the oven mitts.