Thanksgiving is a political holiday based on a religious theme, but while we thank God for life’s blessings, we seem to disregard the rest. The supreme being hands us an allowance and we get to choose what to do with it. If we spend it wisely, it brings us happiness and fulfillment. If we don’t, there is the pain of failure and the poverty of unattainable dreams, leaving us nothing to be thankful for. Maybe we should offer thanks, but also forgiveness.
One of our thriving national characteristics is the diversity of this land and its people. While in Poland, they grow beets and potatoes and in Guinea they grow cocoa and coffee, America is a land of apples and oranges. Barack Obama might understand that better than any man running for high office ever did.
That’s why he belongs as the President of the United States, and perhaps even as Plato’s elusive philosopher king of the world.
Thanksgiving Day, the way it is taught to us as kids, is an unnecessary tradition that celebrates a cowardly act. Even though those actual Pilgrim men and women were not guilty of subterfuge, they did perpetrate the lie that white man was a friendly and giving sort. The mass genocide of the lesser-equipped inhabitants of the new land was as black a mark on our collective American past as slavery, the assassination of President Kennedy and the kiss that Michael gave Fredo. Why do we love our brothers as much as we mistrust them?
Pity the poor cranberry, always invited but never accepted. Though the sauce is one of the simplest procedures when made fresh, we’d rather entrust it to strangers and buy it in a can. There it sits among the gravy, stuffing and potatoes, offering its nutritious profile and its cleansing bite, only to be relegated to the leftover sandwich.