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Thanksgiving. A joyous celebration of the Old World meeting the New World. How exciting it must have been the day the first settlers stepped foot onto this strange and wonderful world and came face to face with the original natives of this exciting new land. Not unlike the Grand Opening of a Walgreens.
I can picture them sharing an enormous meal made with recipes from both sides of the Atlantic. I can imagine the settlers talking, laughing, shaking hands, and making friends with their new brethren, not realizing that these new arrivals would practically eliminate them from the face of the Earth within three centuries. Drink up.
In honor of that tradition, we decided to continue this meaningful celebration every third or fourth Thursday in November, depending on the current administration, and whether or not the President had a duck hunting expedition planned for that weekend.
Much like that eventful first celebration long ago, we too have friends over to our homes so that we can indulge in the enjoyment of human companionship by stuffing ourselves silly with turkey, dressing, candied yams, Jell-O molds, and a large assortment of desserts that would make a Weight Watchers counselor go to confession.
Upon completion of this gluttonous feast, the men undo their belt buckles, let out a loud obnoxious belch that can be heard in the next zip code, and spread out on the sofa to watch seemingly endless football games.
The women, on the other hand, have the glorious task of cleaning the table, jamming the dishwasher to maximum capacity, and discuss, through subliminal hints so as not to tip her off, what to get Granny for Christmas.
The kids head to the bedroom where they’ve hooked up the Nintendo and, in loud vocal tones, destroy the military resistance of the Zaxxon forces. Or, they hook up the VCR where they watch a plethora of Disney animation videos, until the smart aleck fourteen year old, with the raging hormones, inserts a bootlegged copy of “Debby Does Dallas.”
One can’t help but wonder, did the Pilgrims have this kind of debauchery in mind when they sat down centuries ago to enjoy the harvest they just reaped?
Can you really picture the settlers scarfing down an enormous meal of fowl, corn stuffing, and pumpkin pie, only to throw themselves in front of an open fire, holding their over-filled bellies and wishing someone would invent Alka-Seltzer?
Is it hard to imagine, at around ten o’clock, everyone cramming themselves into the cooking area of that little cottage to make a turkey sandwich on rye smothered with cranberries? (That is, until Mr. Hellman came up with a better idea?)
Could it be possible that the women-folk actually discussed, while tossing out the bones and carcass of a now meatless bird, the big sale on buffalo pelts at the local trading post?
Did everyone, upon completion of this hearty fare, descend upon the open fields of clover to witness an exhibition between the real Redskins and Patriots?
How hard is it to conceive the thought of children, of the time, playing an exciting game of Donkey Kong…with a real donkey?
I really find it hard to believe that this is what our ancestors had in mind at all. Do you honestly believe that our forefathers would be proud of us if they saw what we’ve done to the celebration they so thoughtfully created? Probably not. But, what the heck. They’re dead. Pass me a drumstick.
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write by Uri