Gratitude Day, No Gobblygook

From the point of view of the turkey population this could be one of their  best Thanksgivings in recent memory. It’s not clear whether memory is  located in their white meat or dark meat. The word in Turkeyland is that  unvaxed deniers cannot sit down with woke vaxers much to the relief of  the fowl community. In any case I’m doing my part. My plans include a dinner of virtual turkey with Google images of  cranberry sauce, digital stuffing topped off with fractals of pumpkin pie.  No gluttony and sloth. No gastro-intestinal reflux. And no decline in the  domesticated turkey population. Turkeys are a much-maligned fowl. Their reputation for not being very  bright is probably because of their head size and propensity to stare up  into the rain, sometimes even drowning in the process. Give them a break.  It’s all because of their monocular vision which results in a tilt of the head  in order to focus. They express all they have to say, both jubilation and trepidation with  what we hear as an undifferentiated gobble. My guess is there are gobbles  within the gobble beyond our acoustic acuity. In fact, only males gobble.  Females cackle and chirp. As in other species males swell their snood, that  piece of flesh hanging down from their beak, in the mating ritual. Those  male turkeys with erectile dysfunction are deemed good for nothing and  generally end up in the oven. And why do we call them turkeys when they are native to North America,  I hear you ask. It’s a long story highlighted by European mistaken identity,  African imports of guinea hens and a bit of Greek mythology. The chances  are you’ll never be asked that question even on Jeopardy. Turkey, the country, has nothing to do with it except that according to the  Treaty of Versailles, following W.W. I, The Ottoman Empire (centered in  Turkey) was carved up by the European imperialists. France and Great  Britain had a virtual food fight over who was to get Syria, Lebanon, Iraq,  Palestine etc… on their plate The day has devolved into football games and Black Friday Eve as  consumers gather, full bellies and all, to storm the stores for the essentials  of life. Though I would imagine Jeff Bezos will be rubbing his hands together  as we flock to the Amazon website forgetting about gratitude for which the  day had been set aside.   There is nothing about the holiday more iconic than Norman  Rockwell’s image of the serving of turkey with four happy heads  on each side. Consider the notion that Rockwell, himself, so often  inserted in his own illustrations, is missing from this one. Maybe  he was not what we had thought. Rockwell evolved into his true self,  an outsider, an anti-Nixon Liberal, possibly a closeted  gay man who took all his vacations with his buddies and had disdain  for his own American myth. As for dining alone on Thursday. I'm fine with it. I'm likely to get  gravy on my shirt anyway and I never know which fork to use. Like  Norman, my namesake, I’ll not be part of this year’s table signifying  the excesses of the American idyll.   Wait, I can't end on this sour note. Thanksgiving is actually my  favorite holiday; no flags and no religious fables. There is much to  be said about bringing together family and friends celebrating our  good fortune and each other. There is grace inside the word  gratitude. And that's amazing enough.