I was 5 in 1950, and we were expecting a gazillion relatives over for Thanksgiving. My mom had a ginormous turkey with all the fixins. Thanksgiving morning it started to snow. And snow. And snow. And the wind was blowing something ferocious. And it was COLD! Before long we were in the Great Blizzard of 1950, which encompassed a large portion of the NE U.S. Everyone was snowed in, and none of our guests could make it for dinner. We had drifts of snow up to our second-story windows. As people slowly began digging out, it was over a week before stores were open and it was possible to get to them.
The result: we were trapped inside the house and had to eat turkey for every meal. My mom was a great cook, and invented so many different things to do with turkey, but still… it was TURKEY for every goddamn meal. At the end, we even had turkey soup, made with the carcass.
It was several years before we could look another turkey in the face.