Faith: Got (spiritual) visits from two of my favorite people this Thanksgiving

I had a Charlie moment over Thanksgiving.

Chef Charlie Broz was my go-to guy for all things “meat” (really, all things cooking). If I had a cooking question, I’d either shoot him an email or walk over to his kitchen. I’d get a story and suggestions with a side of humor. I’d also get snacks.

Because it was just the two of us this year, I’d decided to do away with roasting a whole turkey. I had the great idea to whip up a batch of dressing, plop the turkey wings and drumsticks on top, cover with foil, and roast until delicious.

So easy, and yet, so wrong. I was filled with faux confidence that comes from watching far too many hours of The Food Network and The Cooking Channel, and saying, “I could do that.” Suddenly, without any culinary training whatsoever (sorry, Charlie), I was a chef.

Again, so wrong.

Charlie was a total badass in the kitchen, wherever and however a kitchen shaped up. We honored his “badassery” when we created the name for the scholarship that would help future culinary arts majors at ENMU: the Charlie Broz (BA) Memorial Scholarship. You can probably guess what the BA means.

Charlie had a gift and would happily share what he knew just because he could. He loved teaching, and even in the middle of some unfortunate cooking mishaps (mine, not his), he found the good.

I’m not sure he could have done that after this kitchen turkey.

The house smelled great, and everything looked good, mostly. The gravy was an odd color, but my husband Wayne and I both thought throwing in a variety of spices and simmering would change that (it didn’t). I mashed the gem potatoes and ended up with a grayish purple mess. OK, we had turkey. I started trying to cut the wings and discovered that through some kitchen sorcery I’d turned the skin into a weird, rubberized mess.

I laughed because really, what else could we do? I had a vision of my dad rolling his eyes and then I flashbacked to a tofu pizza I made for him. This was back before soy cheese and soy crumbles were popular (or tasty). Everything on the pizza solidified as it cooled, and no matter how hard we tried to cut it, we couldn’t. My dad picked up a wedge of pizza, hammered the table with it, and said, “We don’t have to do this again.”

I ended up with a two-fer this holiday: visits from Charlie and my dad, two of my favorite people. Even though they’re no longer here, their presence is bigger than life. The love they had for their people, the joy they had for life, the laughter that bubbled out of their souls, surrounds us. I miss them tremendously, but I’m so grateful that they danced into (and stayed) in my corner of the world. My world is brighter for it, and I’m thankful.

Patti Dobson writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact her at:

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