Having finally passed the torch of responsibility for the Thanksgiving feast to our eldest daughter, the Divine Mrs. M and I spent a much less frenetic day than is usual and for that we were truly thankful. Aside from the turkey dressing I contributed and their mother's famous apple pie we mostly added gravitas to the celebration as the semi-revered elders.
All this extra time led to a few thoughts on this most American of holidays. Number one being the unique nature of the day. While few of us actually count the blessings bestowed on us merely by residing in the US, they are substantial, especially if you are a white, middle class American. Besides Canada, I don't know if a single other country has a national day of thanksgiving.
Leaving aside the sordid history of the European settlers' relations with native Americans, the myth of the first thanksgiving and subsequent iterations of the post harvest celebrations helped cement our national identity. Regardless of when and how the holiday started, along with the meanings attached to it, for most of us it provides the opportunity for a few moments of introspection. It is now fashionable in some quarters to bash anything positive in the American experience while others fanatically defend every good thing and ignore the bad aspects of our nation. We can celebrate the good while acknowledging the bad and resolving to strive for a better America. Anyway, that's what Thanksgiving Day means to me.
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