As I planned my family's Thanksgiving Day feast, I couldn't help but think about some of the prison movies I watched in my youth. How many inmates have ordered turkey and all the fixings for their last meal? I wondered. That wouldn't be my first choice. I've always said my farewell supper would be oodles of chocolate and a California bacon cheeseburger accompanied by an expensive bottle of Chardonnay. Dessert would be a pot of strong coffee and Marlboro cigarettes.
     In an e-mail to friends, I posed the question: "Picture your last meal; what do you see on the table?" I expressed concern that, this close to Thanksgiving, everyone would think of turkey and the trimmings. They didn't. No one mentioned a pack of smokes, either, but wine was a priority. One friend desires red wine and more wine. Another, "unlimited Riesling."
     One good Norwegian warned, "Don't laugh." Her favorites? Lutefisk and lefse. Meat with potatoes was a common choice. Even eggs, sausage, toast, and hash browns. The number of beneficial greens surprised me-salads, asparagus, Brussels sprouts, broccoli and spinach. Fish high in healthy Omega-3s was on many lists. Those people must believe in an afterlife.
     A writer's last meal would be a colonic cocktail and broccoli so he could detoxify of contaminants. He desires to return his vessel to the cosmos in as close to the purified state as it arrived, feeling it would be "arrogant and disrespectful to treat this gift any other way." Hmm…sounds like science fiction.
     A transplanted southerner suggested I shouldn't ask the question of someone from New Orleans who loves to eat. His menu includes duck, crawfish, tuna and salmon, along with oysters and fried chicken with honey mustard sauce. Plus, more vittles than allowed by this newspaper's word count. He would need a stay of execution to allow prison kitchen workers time to whip up the delicacies. Any crime he commits should be in Louisiana; some prisons grant last meal requests only for locally grown foods.
     A young man who recently relocated to Alaska would easily get the warden to grant his last behest-Alaskan king crab legs and halibut. A grandmother would need to perpetrate her crime spree in Iowa, home of the "loose meat sandwich from this little dive in Ottumwa, called the Canteen." Topped with thinly sliced pickles and mustard and served with a cherry Coke. "I'm pretty sure they're still using pure lard to cook the French fries and I'll have a large order, please!" she said.
     An American who teaches English in China must be planning his larceny on the mainland. He would forego beef stroganoff and asparagus with hollandaise sauce for noodles and dumplings. He didn't have a substitute for "good old American chocolate bars," though.
     A baby-boomer who teaches cooking classes would want her final dinner to be "a visual feast-lots of color, texture, and taste." She hopes they'll allow friends and loved ones to dine with her, a sentiment shared by my high school classmate. Her simple plea would be pizza. It's easy and "everyone loves it." Most important would be eating the last meal with family; no hassles, though, just laughter.
     Dessert was no laughing matter. Ice cream topped the list-with or without chocolate sauce, or on top of warm apple pie. Chocolate chip cookies and decadent chocolate cake would grace many prison plates. "I don't care if I'm stuffed…bring on another dessert…and an Irish coffee," a respondent wrote. Sleep, calories and fat grams were of no concern. They usually aren't at this time of year.