I love Thanksgiving.
The holiday is all too often forgotten, what with Halloween barely wrapping up before Santa Claus starts slamming Merry Commercialmas in everyone’s face, with a shopping day or two thrown in between. I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog, the forgotten and disregarded, and despite the fact we have so many reasons to be thankful, Thanksgiving is looked upon more as an extra day off from work before Black Friday, when half the population goes out to do mortal combat for big screen TVs and whatever toy is most wanted this year.
If that’s your thing, or if you love back to back football games, more power to you. Enjoy yourself. I expect I’ll be working on Black Friday, as usual, but this year I decided to take all of Thanksgiving off.
The day was originally created by Abraham Lincoln after the tide seemed to be turning against the South in 1863; while it seems ironic that a diehard Southron like myself should appreciate a day created by Lincoln, we’re all Americans now, and that’s one reason I am so thankful.
President Franklin Roosevelt set the date as the fourth Thursday in November to make it more efficient. There was a time when much of the country basically shut down on Thanksgiving, so folks could spend time with their families. That’s not so much the case anymore.
The holiday’s traditions have changed significantly through the years, to the point that one cannot help but wonder what the reactions would be of the Pilgrims at the “first” Thanksgiving in 1621 (which was possibly more of a harvest festival) or my own ancestors who survived the worst winter at Jamestown and had a formal dinner “of Thanksgiving.”
In both cases they thanked God for bringing them through a troubling time and showing them hope for the years ahead. My folks in Jamestown missed that first Thanksgiving dinner there; they didn’t arrive until things had slightly settled down, the weather more moderate and food a bit more regular. While there were still the threats of hostile Indians and Spaniards, at least there was enough to eat without worrying which relative you liked least, and how they’d taste with mustard powder and lionhead mushrooms.
I am reminded to be thankful every time I hear from my friend who runs an orphanage in Uganda; I’m thankful that I can help a little here and there, and that others feel led to do the same. You don’t understand gratitude until you’ve seen it in the eyes of a hungry child, even in a picture from thousands of miles away.
I’m thankful for my chosen granddaughters and their parents; I’m thankful that the Dandelion Queen loves school and that the little Princess coos at me more than she bawls in fear. I reckon someday she’ll grow out of that part and know how much I love her.
I’m thankful that I can work, even if I can’t move as quickly as I once could and the work sometimes gets under my skin. As long as I can step back and look at the big picture, I can see the small shining points a lot brighter than the dark spots that make me want to throw my hands up and walk away.
I’m thankful for the parents who taught me my trade, as well as teaching me how to work and write and pray and love and laugh and forgive and share and help others, along with so many other things.
I’m thankful that when we sit down to have dinner with my brother, the table will be set as our mother taught us, and the family traditions forgotten by so many will be out in full force, because some things simply shouldn’t change.
I’m thankful for my brothers and sisters, who didn’t drown me when I likely well deserved it as a child. I just wish we were not so far scattered that we rarely see each other, but we take our blessings where we can (and besides, one of them might still want to drown me all these years later if we were together too much).
I’m thankful for my wife; it amazed a contemporary the other day when he found out we had been married 33 years. He’s seeking his third wife now, and his soon-to-be ex wife is seeking a replacement as well. How we have stayed together longer than some of our friends have been alive is a miracle itself, and one for which I am eternally grateful.
I am thankful for the stubborn, loud, smelly dogs who greet me so joyously when I return home of an evening, who steal the covers from me at night, and who would cheerfully eat any unattended shoe. I am thankful for their huge brown eyes and floppy ears and voices ringing clear in the moonlight of a cold autumn night, or half-howling in their sleep as they chase mammoths in their dreams at my feet.
I am thankful for a closeknit group of friends who are more like family should be, a menagerie of different personalities and hopes and dreams and histories and ideas, folks I know I don’t have to call on in a crisis since they will already be on the way to help, as I would for them, fully equipped with a hug, a cup of coffee, or whatever is needed for the moment and beyond.
I’m thankful to live in a country where I don’t have to have anyone’s permission to speak my mind or pack up and go somewhere else to start over again. I’m thankful for all those who gave so much to ensure that those they loved back home would be safe from the ones who hate what America means and what America can be.
I’m thankful that God loves me enough that He gave His Son’s life for my sins, and most importantly that He rose again and someday will take me home.
I know some of you will remember what Thanksgiving is supposed to be all about, and set aside the fearmongering and hateselling that automatically accompany this holiday. If you are reading these words, you have reasons to be thankful. Take the time and reflect on that, why don’t you? It might make things a little less dark.
Happy Thanksgiving, folks. Please remember that it’s more than football, shopping and food.
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