Speaker 1: High Excursionists. It's me Narri. I wanted to take a
Speaker 1: minute to let you know that I'm going to be
Speaker 1: launching my own website. This will be a place for
Speaker 1: all of my excursionists to keep up with my current
Speaker 1: and future projects. The site is counting down to going live,
Speaker 1: and there is a place to sign up to become
Speaker 1: a story in my library. Library members will receive special
Speaker 1: perks that will be announced later, but the important part
Speaker 1: is that when you sign up for early access, you
Speaker 1: will be a member for free for the foreseeable future.
Speaker 1: Once the site goes live, the early access period will end,
Speaker 1: and after that there will be a small membership fee required.
Speaker 1: I look forward to seeing each and every one of
Speaker 1: you over at Narynarrates dot com so that you can
Speaker 1: join me on all of my upcoming adventures. Welcome to
Speaker 1: Endo the Night. I'm Narri, your guide on today's excursion
Speaker 1: down a twisted path. Be careful not to get lost.
Speaker 1: Be it dark or light, it's easy to lose your way.
Speaker 1: Are you ready, then let's begin food for thought. When
Speaker 1: I was a child, I remember my grandfather telling me
Speaker 1: stories of how the world was when he was a
Speaker 1: younger man. It sounded like a fantasy to me, and
Speaker 1: I sometimes had to catch myself from laughing aloud when
Speaker 1: he told me some of his tales. I was pretty
Speaker 1: sure he exaggerated much of the time, but I was
Speaker 1: grateful to still have my grandfather, and it made him
Speaker 1: happy to talk about the past, so I indulged him. Still,
Speaker 1: I wonder if they were true.
Speaker 2: Asher. I'm going to tell you about the time that
Speaker 2: your grandmother first invited me to her family's Thanksgiving dinner.
Speaker 2: I was nervous as all get out, but I kept
Speaker 2: my knees from knocking too loudly and made it to
Speaker 2: her parents' house at twelve o'clock sharp, just like I
Speaker 2: was told to do. Her mother, bless her soul, was
Speaker 2: warm and friendly. Her father and brothers not so much.
Speaker 2: They weren't sure what to think of this hay seed
Speaker 2: Adelaide had attached herself to at college. Looking back, I
Speaker 2: can't blame them. I was a tall, gangly hic just
Speaker 2: off the farm in my first semester of college, and
Speaker 2: I wasn't exactly as smooth or Debonnair. I was one
Speaker 2: part bluetick Hound and the other part Faulkner. At that time,
Speaker 2: it was a battle to decide which side would win. Well,
Speaker 2: there I stood staring at a house full of people
Speaker 2: I didn't know, with them staring back at me, and
Speaker 2: I thought I might bolt or pass out. Then Adelaide
Speaker 2: came from the kitchen and gave me that sweet smile
Speaker 2: of hers. I knew in that instant I'd better get
Speaker 2: to know all these people, because Adelaide was going to
Speaker 2: be in my life forever. She introduced me all around,
Speaker 2: and pretty soon we were talking and laughing. It was
Speaker 2: already one of the best days of my life. Then
Speaker 2: her mother announced that dinner was served Ashure. So much
Speaker 2: food sat on that long table that there was barely
Speaker 2: room for our dinner plates and glasses. Two huge turkeys,
Speaker 2: a hamp green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, stuffing, candied yams, gravy,
Speaker 2: homemade cranberry sauce with oranges in it. I ate until
Speaker 2: I wasn't sure I could move, so did everyone at
Speaker 2: the table. A good time was had by all, as
Speaker 2: the saying goes. Her mother then smiled sweetly and said,
Speaker 2: I hope everyone has left room for dessert. A communal
Speaker 2: groan spread around the room. Maybe after we've had a
Speaker 2: little time to watch some football, and some of this
Speaker 2: food is digested. You're the best baker around, Deer, so
Speaker 2: you know, I just won't pass up your pumpkin pie.
Speaker 2: Just give us a bit. Her husband rubbed his swollen stomach.
Speaker 2: She laughed.
Speaker 1: I had a feeling that's what you were going to say.
Speaker 1: If anyone decides they do want more of the dinner,
Speaker 1: there's plenty left. The desserts were nothing to scoff at.
Speaker 1: Once we'd watched the game on television, we decided the
Speaker 1: dessert sounded pretty good. My eyes flew open at the site.
Speaker 1: Sweets and baked goods of all kinds covered the same
Speaker 1: long table the dinner was served on. I think I
Speaker 1: ate more that day than I've ever eaten in my
Speaker 1: entire life. I was used to a lot of food,
Speaker 1: but this was a dream come true for a young
Speaker 1: man who was squeaking by at college. Adelaide and I
Speaker 1: attended her parents' Thanksgiving feast every year during college and afterward.
Speaker 1: We married as soon as we graduated, and it didn't
Speaker 1: matter where work took me or where we lived. Thanksgiving
Speaker 1: was spent with her folks, and that family provided me
Speaker 1: with wonderful memories. I looked at my grandfather, wide eyed.
Speaker 1: Is that true? Was there really all that food? He
Speaker 1: gave me that sweet smile of his and said, yes, Azure,
Speaker 1: it's true. Families everywhere ate like that on Thanksgiving, slack jawed.
Speaker 1: I stared in disbelief.
Speaker 2: Do you have any other stories you can tell me, Grandpa?
Speaker 2: He reached for his pipe, tapped it to remove the
Speaker 2: old tobacco, filled it, and then lit a match. He
Speaker 2: took a few puffs and continued with his tails. When
Speaker 2: I was working on my graduate studies, few of my
Speaker 2: professors took a liking or at least pity on me.
Speaker 2: Adelaide and I were scraping by on not much. I
Speaker 2: worked as a teaching assistant at the university, but the
Speaker 2: pay was a dismal. She had a teaching job, but
Speaker 2: that barely paid anything at all. We managed to get by,
Speaker 2: but that was all we were doing, getting by. My
Speaker 2: professors and their wives took us in at least once
Speaker 2: a week. We ate at one of the three professors homes.
Speaker 2: It was a grand multicultural adventure. One wife was German
Speaker 2: and she loved to cook authentic dishes from home. The
Speaker 2: same with another wife who was from the Philippines. The
Speaker 2: third wife was from the Deep South here in America,
Speaker 2: and she fixed the best fried chicken and collared greens
Speaker 2: to be found. They weren't skimpy on the portions, and
Speaker 2: they always insisted that we take leftovers with us, like
Speaker 2: a king and a queen. Thanks to them, I kept
Speaker 2: in touch with every one of them until they eventually
Speaker 2: died years later. They were good people. Adelaide and the
Speaker 2: wives swapped recipes too, so they learned how to make
Speaker 2: homemade cranberry sauce just like my mother in law made it,
Speaker 2: and Adelaide knew how to cook the international dishes we loved.
Speaker 2: My mouth water is every time I think of his stories,
Speaker 2: I wonder what those foods were like from Germany and
Speaker 2: the Philippines. What did Southern fried chicken taste like. I
Speaker 2: shouldn't torture myself thinking of these things. It's not the
Speaker 2: way the world works, at least not the world as
Speaker 2: it is today. I'm so hungry, but I agonize over
Speaker 2: going to the food pantry. I've seen what it's done
Speaker 2: to people. I'm afraid my choice is to die of
Speaker 2: starvation or die of vegetable, albeit a fat one. There's
Speaker 2: no escaping that we are all dying one way or another.
Speaker 2: I just want to say, still be me when I do.
Speaker 2: The hunger is gnawing at me day and night, though,
Speaker 2: and my brothers and sisters tell me I need to
Speaker 2: stop dying on the sword of conviction. They say I
Speaker 2: should go ahead and just eat. I remember the stories
Speaker 2: Grandpa told me, and that seems like a completely different
Speaker 2: world than we live in today. How could there have
Speaker 2: been so much plenty? How could people all on their
Speaker 2: own have access to so much food without strings attached?
Speaker 2: How could they have enough to share with friends and neighbors.
Speaker 2: Why do I have to be the one making a
Speaker 2: choice that will be a loser either way. I have
Speaker 2: been to the food pantry before it was awful. We
Speaker 2: could choose anything they had available, but each item came
Speaker 2: with a sticker that had a number on it that
Speaker 2: was the price for having that item to eat. An
Speaker 2: apple was five, a block of cheese was fifteen, a
Speaker 2: piece of meat was fifty. The amount of food chosen
Speaker 2: was only dependent upon what the person was willing to sacrifice.
Speaker 2: I've been to the food pantry and allowed myself to
Speaker 2: be stolen. I can tell something is missing in me
Speaker 2: Grandpa once told me never go shopping on an empty stomach,
Speaker 2: because you'll want everything in the store. I was starving,
Speaker 2: and I tried to choose inexpensive food. I didn't want
Speaker 2: to end up devoid of what makes me who I am.
Speaker 2: I put more food into my cart than I intended,
Speaker 2: and I ate it far too quickly. I know there's
Speaker 2: no escape. I cried at the food pantry. Once my
Speaker 2: cart of food was scanned and bagged, they led me
Speaker 2: to a room in the back. A chair, not unlike
Speaker 2: the electric chairs they used in prisons for executions, sat
Speaker 2: with wires coming out of a control box. They strapped
Speaker 2: me in and placed a helmet over my head. My
Speaker 2: jolt was painful, and I could feel my thoughts being
Speaker 2: drained from my mind. Five thoughts for the apple, fifteen
Speaker 2: for the block of cheese, and so on. I wept.
Speaker 2: I've been to the pantry five times in the last
Speaker 2: two months. I've tried to ration the food as best
Speaker 2: I can, but it's been a week since I ate anything.
Speaker 2: I've struggled watching others indulging in the food with no care.
Speaker 1: In the world.
Speaker 2: I resent the people who are perfectly content to allow
Speaker 2: the government to take their thoughts.
Speaker 1: I don't care as long as my belly is full.
Speaker 1: Who needs useless thoughts?
Speaker 2: Anyway? Some people have told me they don't care that
Speaker 2: the government is making sure they have complete control of us.
Speaker 2: I swear they orchestrated the famine just so they could
Speaker 2: subjugate the masses today. Right now, as I speak, I'm
Speaker 2: afraid I'm giving into the temptation. What good are my
Speaker 2: thoughts when I'm dead? What good are independent thoughts if
Speaker 2: the government is going to win in the end? Anyway,
Speaker 2: I'm sorry, Grandpa, I know you would have wanted me
Speaker 2: to resist. I can't take the starvation any longer, and
Speaker 2: maybe part of me thinks life would be much easier
Speaker 2: if I didn't have to think. The government will make
Speaker 2: all the decisions anyway. So here I am at the
Speaker 2: door of the food pantry. I think it's time I
Speaker 2: go on a shopping spree. Before long, life will seem easy.
Speaker 2: I won't have to make any decisions again.
Speaker 1: Thank you for joining me for this episode of the
Speaker 1: Into the Night Anthology podcast. Written by Caroline Giamanco, narrated
Speaker 1: by Nari Quak, the music by Nico Rodriguez. All other
Speaker 1: original music, sound design, and editing by Omenhawk Studios. You
Speaker 1: can find our links in the show notes. Into the
Speaker 1: Night is on your favorite podcatcher, so make sure to like, subscribe,
Speaker 1: and leave a five star review to help other excursionists
Speaker 1: to join us. I'll see you next time, and remember,
Speaker 1: whether in the shadows or in the daylight, all twisted
Speaker 1: paths lead you into the night. Into the Night Anthology
Speaker 1: is a creative typo entertainment production