All This and Eel Pies

 

     Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

    It’s the first of the year-end celebrations, the others being Christmas, Hanukkah, and New Years.  And, by New Years, I mean New Years Eve.  January 1st is really only meant for watching college football and making resolutions to not act like a jackass at the next New Years Eve party.

Provided you even get invited back.
NOTE:  For entertainment use only.  I am not a woman.

     You could make the case that Veterans Day kicks it off.  But, as evidenced by the dismal ratings of the short-lived It’s the War to End All Wars, Charlie Brown special, the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month just doesn’t make for a merry start of the holiday season.

    So, it’s really the 4th Thursday of November which gets the festivities rolling (hey, it’s easier than trying to figure out when the frik Easter is).

    Incidentally, some folks have already jumped the gun and started decorating for Christmas.

We call them "crazy people."

 

    I said what I said.

    After all, what evokes the holiday spirit more than getting trampled at Wal-Mart by frenzied harpies in bathrobes and curlers on Black Friday?

"Friday of Color."

    As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate how special Thanksgiving is.  A more sober occasion than the frenetic zaniness of the Yuletide season (crazy people notwithstanding), at Thanksgiving we gather just to be together, not because we hope to score the latest electronic gizmo.

    Oh, sure, even though there are parades, football games, and enough food to sink the Mayflower, Thanksgiving is thankfully (pardon the pun) devoid of the commercialism of Christmas and the bacchanalian excess of New Year’s Eve.

    Of course, if you don't feel like watching football, the Dallas Cowboys are on.

"Gentlemen, may I present...the end zone!"
"What's that?"

    Gratefully, we aren’t bombarded by wall-to-wall advertisements to get our loved ones (or our families) the very latest in techno wizardry (“Because, if you REALLY loved Mom, you’d buy her a Kindle Fire!”) in the run-up to Thanksgiving.  Plus, there’s no such thing as a “24-Hour Thanksgiving Music Station” or a “Randolph the Hair-Lipped Turkey” special on the Hallmark channel.

But there is the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special,
which I always found a little disturbing. 
Can't exactly put my finger on why, though.

THAT'S IT!!!!

    No, it’s a calming prelude to the mania which paralyzes every December.  It’s a time to appreciate what we’ve been given.

    As the day draws nearer, I think back to that very first day of thanks held almost four hundred years ago...

    The brightly colored leaves swirling madly amongst the trees, a chill autumn wind blowing briskly over freshly-harvested fields, and the forest animals bustling crazily about in preparation for winter.

    And nobody fighting over the remote.

    So it was in 1621 that Governor Bradford of Plymouth Colony thought it was high time to celebrate a day of thanksgiving.

    Frantically scurrying to find a suitable venue at which to hold their celebration, the Pilgrim Fathers were disappointed to learn they were too late; all the good days in October and early November had been reserved months ago for the Pequot/Schwartz wedding reception, the Jamestown “We Were First” Commemoration, and the last of the Mohican family reunions.

Thankfully, it didn't get out of hand like in 1620
 after someone invited the white guy.

    Luckily, a spot opened up the last Thursday of November when “Mohawks On Ice!” was forced to close after some Hurons packed their loincloths with Icy Hot.  So, the Native Europeans invited their friends, the Native Americans, to a grand feast at the local Elks Lodge picnic pavilion.

Featuring real elk

     A deeply devout people, the Pilgrims wished to thank the “Godless heathen savages” for all their help getting the colony on its feet.  After all, the tribe was essential to gaining a foothold in the New World, long before the Trail of Tears, Wounded Knee, and all-you-can-eat casino buffets. 

    Imagine what would have happened had Squanto not taught the Pilgrims to plant dead fish with their corn (“Behold, I bring you the gift of maize!  As long as you don’t mind the smell of dead fish.”). 

    Prior to that, they just stuck them in their trousers.

    Plus, the tribe brought the eel pies.

"Seriously, Runs With Scissors, you couldn't have brought something normal? 
Like an apple cobbler?"

    Many customs today hearken back to this coming together: the feast, the fellowship, the two-hand touch lacrosse game after supper, and the men falling asleep in front of the fire with their hands down their breeches while the women cleaned up all laid the foundation of our nation.

    NOTE:  By our nation, I mean the United States.  Canada, you have your own Thanksgiving in October.  England, you coulda had a piece of this, but noooooooooo.

    Happily, it was the giving of thanks which has endured through peace, war, and disco.  No doubt Governor Bradford himself began a tradition which survives to this day:  putting relatives on the spot to state that for which they were thankful.

    In homes across the nation, this scene will be played out anew during halftime.  In the true spirit of the holiday, millions of family members will likewise be grilled.

"I'm thankful for Matt Gaetz."
"Booooooooooooooo!!!!!!!"
"And Trump."
"Get out."

    This year, though, in addition to joyful thanks for family, friends, and the feelings of warmth which come from both, one will resonate above all:

    That Great-Aunt Mildred was able to buy the last bundt cake from that guy in the back of his van at the Stop N Shop.

    Because the alternative was the Eel Pies.

    And I don’t care how much Cool Whip you put on them, they’re still eels.

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY, EVERYONE!