Let’s Talk Turkey**

Somehow over the years, I’ve become the cook for our family’s holiday meals. We do Thanksgiving in Rehoboth and Christmas in Alabama. As the family grows, so does the size of the Turkey that is essential to those meals. Since I like to either brine or salt my own turkey, I’m always on the lookout for fresh and natural ones with very little or no processing.

For our Christmas gathering this past December, Steve and I found a beautiful turkey, but beyond the “minimally processed” I didn’t pay that much attention to the asterisk laden statements listed on its white plastic covering—and extolling the virtues of this particular wonder bird! Later, as I began to prep the bird for cooking, I suddenly noticed the words I had previously missed:

**Humanely raised on family farms in a stress-free environment.

Hmmmm. Really? “Stress free until the last day,” one of my nephews quipped when I shared this bit of information with those passing in and out of my Christmas kitchen.

**Humanely raised on family farms in a stress-free environment.

Wow! I have to confess that I got a kick out of that statement for some reason or another, which led me to impulsively cut the words out of the plastic and transport them all the way back home. I wasn’t sure then, and I’m not sure even now, just why I cut out and saved those words. They made me laugh, for sure, but I kept thinking that perhaps there was a story there—beyond the immediate visuals of fat young turkeys lounging in comfort and style in a place called paradise. (Only…chop chop! Don’t go behind the woodpile, birdfriend.)

**Humanely raised on family farms in a stress-free environment.

It has a certain ring to it. Right? I mean, who wouldn’t want to be raised on a family farm in a stress-free environment? 

Come to think of it, though I wasn’t raised on a farm, I had a pretty happy childhood. There were four of us kids—two brothers, a sister, plus my parents—all living in various Methodist parsonages. Except for moving every four or five years as the Bishop decreed, (and even that wasn’t too bad), we were, and still are, a fairly happy family. We were never stress free!

I don’t even know what that means—a stress free environment! Steve and I and our friends Ward and Allen are headed back to Mexico for a little vacation as soon as the deadline for this issue of Letters from CAMP Rehoboth is over. Even as totally relaxed as we always seem to be on vacation in PV, nothing is stress free. In truth, it takes a little stress to get us up and running. Without it, we might just be too lazy to get off our butts and do anything at all.

I’m not, by the way, advocating for a stressful life. In fact, like most of us, I do what I can to avoid it—especially the really bad kind that causes ulcers and panic attacks. Like most of the things we human beings experience, it has its place in our lives.

After creating and running a non-profit organization like CAMP Rehoboth for almost 25 years, I can’t believe I’m not praying for a stress free life. The truth is, I wouldn’t trade any of it—even the difficult parts, for that is where we have truly come face to face with ourselves. That is where we have learned the most about ourselves and the way we interact and exist with others in this community we call home.

The whole story of CAMP Rehoboth has been a learning experience—a great big experiment for all of us. We always wanted to create a place that welcomed all—that expanded the concept of what it means to be a family. Is there anything more humane than that? We all need to know that we live in a safe environment. 

During these last few wretchedly cold weeks, many in our community have stepped up their efforts to care for the homeless in our area. The Immanuel Shelter at Epworth, has taken on a huge responsibility recently, and seeing firsthand the many folks in need this winter, is heartbreaking. Can there be anything more stressful than not having a home? There is nothing remotely humane in that.

Creating a “home” for the LGBT community has always been at the heart of CAMP Rehoboth—as witnessed by our house and heart logo. How that concept of home is interpreted is personal, for each one of us brings with us our own set of experiences, hopes, dreams, and understanding of the world around us. 

This is, now that I think about it, the Valentine’s Day issue of Letters from CAMP Rehoboth. I don’t think we call it that anymore—it’s just the “Winter Issue”—but it’s still the love issue in my mind, and love speaks volumes about what it means to be “humanely raised in a stress free environment. 

Love. Home. Family. That’s what life is all about for us as individuals—and really, that’s what CAMP Rehoboth is about for us as a community. There is not much any of us can do about the general daily stress of our everyday lives—meditate, pray, eat right and get enough sleep maybe—but on a big scale, we can continue to seek justice and equality for all. That’s the kind of stress that no one needs added to their lives.

I guess that’s why I’ve been carrying around an old turkey wrapper for the last month. You know, I might just stick it up on the wall beside my desk…just to remind me that we all need to be:

**Humanely raised on family farms in a stress-free environment.

Murray Archibald, CAMP Co-founder and President of the Board of Directors of CAMP Rehoboth, is an artist in Rehoboth Beach.