Many Thanks-Day

What a concept, setting aside a day for gratitude, for goodness gracious. And we gather together and eat and drink and eat some more. Yet between the stuffing and cranberry sauce, I wonder how many of us think about the fact that we are all offspring of immigrants.

The origin of all this goes back to those 132 (102 passengers and 30 crew) people on the Mayflower whose descendants now number 35 million worldwide. Only 10 million live here. The rest are in Canada, the motherland or possibly in witness protection programs.   

Those were the folks who came to dinner on Native land 404 years ago, shared the feast, then killed their hosts and never left. From the point of view of the Wampanoag tribe, it was the beginning of the end. From the POV of turkeys, 45 million give up their white and dark meat every last Thursday of November. From our perspective it could be Immigrant Day, or at least. Pilgrim Day, since we are all on a pilgrimage. Instead we forget about all that and gather together to ask the Lord’s blessings.

He hastens and chastens His will to make known. There is much to chasten or rebuke these days and He’d better hasten. That hymn we used to sing in school was written about 500 years ago during a war between Catholic Spain and Protestant Holland. It’s always a good idea to have God on your side, especially during one of his tantrums.

So strange how holidays evolve or devolve, depending on whether you are in the oven or in a chair in the Norman Rockwell tableau, showing eight eager faces around a table about to be served the perfect turkey by the perfect aproned mother with the approving patriarch at her side. Among those seated is a male, half-turned away in disdain. This, I believe, was Rockwell himself who had a hidden life.

Unlike one of the Americana depicted on those covers of the Saturday Evening Post, he was married three times, and was probably a closeted gay man who always vacationed with his male buddies. He was also a civil rights advocate. His Four Freedoms were championed by President Roosevelt and made into posters which hung everywhere during WWII. The Thanksgiving picture was his interpretation of FDR's speech about Freedom From Want. Even Willem de Kooning, the abstract expressionist, admired his work. Who knew?

Not to end on a sour note, I need to say that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. No Hallmark cards, no hoopla or parades, no religiosity. Only family and friends in a communal dinner, forgiving each other their trespasses, even the crazy uncle living in the attic.

I note this day with much gratitude for my lucky life, for my three very special daughters and extended family, my forty years of Yes with Peggy and my loving friends now enriching my life. I should also express a special thank you to my 5th grade teacher who cast me as Miles Standish, rather than the turkey, in the Thanksgiving play.