Once upon a time, a group of pilgrims, gaily clad in black and white Puritanical garb, gathered around a feast to celebrate their arrival to the New World with a robust crowd of half-dressed, paint-smeared Native Americans. Disease, starvation and the long winter ahead of them were briefly ignored as all joined hands and counted their blessings over turkey, potatoes, and other “Indian” delicacies. This story has been told time and time again, mainly by Kindergarten students wearing construction paper feathers on their heads or black buckled pilgrim hats, who believe this fairy-tale was reality. However it is just as believable as my Great Uncle Stewart’s toupée, which he seems to always drop in the yams when he visits for Thanksgiving.
Marian Prim ’12
Thanksgiving has become a holiday for the ages, as families gather together all over the country to celebrate the fact that ruthless Europeans “discovered” and took this land for their own. Now, I am not condemning this holiday (I like mashed potatoes way too much). I am merely pointing out the irony. The winter that followed this so-to-speak “feast of the ages” was one of starvation, bitter cold, and inevitable death. Sorry to be so morbid, but when everyone holds hands around the steaming turkey and gives thanks for the food in front of them, there is a greater meaning than many don’t realize.
American Thanksgiving meals are fairly predictable. Everyone gathers around a table with family they hardly see except when food is guaranteed, and gives thanks for all the blessings the year has brought. Little Sally gives thanks that her teacher let her hold the bunny in class. Uncle Tom winks and gives thanks that he can still hear out of his left ear (no one asks why). Grandpop pauses and gives thanks for everyone’s health, lives, and education, and sometimes throws in a spiel about the hardships his family had to go through to put a turkey on the table. Chowing down is the only way to describe the atmosphere once food is served.
The end of my Thanksgiving dinner is always the best part. Somehow my little cousin and brother disappear every year to go play Wii after hastily eating a slice of turkey, and someone begins telling jokes. Stories of growing up with a huge Irish Catholic family never end, so we wrap up the night by having my aunt and cousin sing. Everyone has their own Thanksgiving traditions, unique and special, yet everyone relate to this fabulous holiday. Though some historical facts have drifted away from reality, the true meaning behind Thanksgiving, family and counting our blessings, will never lose its charm.