By Kevin Ryan, Esq., Executive Director
T.S. Eliot thought April is the cruelest month, but I think it’s November, when everything is dead or dying, the days grow shorter and darker, and the temperatures dip below freezing while flurries dance in the air. Maybe that’s why Thanksgiving has long been my favorite holiday.
Thanksgiving Day gravitates around cooking, sharing food with family and friends, and relaxing (read: falling asleep after eating too much). When you get right down to it, there’s not much more than that happening on Thanksgiving. There’s the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while you’re getting the turkey in the oven. Later, there’s a string of football games in the background. But the parade can be tedious if you’re not seeing it live (then, it’s fun even when it’s cold) and the games rarely mean much and generally involve teams we neither love nor hate (though I admit to always rooting against the Dallas Cowboys). There might be a drink or two – New York Gewürztraminer is especially good with turkey – or, for teetotalers, some special non-alcoholic concoction. And oh so much food! Hors d’oeuvres, side dishes, things you don’t eat the rest of the year. The smell of turkey roasting away in the oven pervades the house.
Later, after way too much turkey and stuffing and potatoes, desserts abound. We end up stuffed, rotund, and deeply gratified. Best of all, there’s not really anything else you have to do: no piles of gifts to unwrap, no particular reason to get all dressed up (‘cuz there’s no place to go), no religious services demanding attendance, no requirements to do much more than praise the cook(s) and eat (more than we should) of their offerings. Just put your feet up and nod off, defying the effects of the caffeine and sugar you dumped into your system just moments before. Altogether a happy, relaxing sort of day, just the thing for the cruel hours of November.
Yes, of course, we are supposed to be “thankful” on this day – for the love and food we share with others, for the other joys in our lives, for the fact that we do not live in want. We do not agree about the recipient of our thanks, but the feeling (and isn’t thankfulness a feeling more than anything else?) is much the same, I suspect, whether we thank a divinity, a nation, our parents, families, and friends, or children and grandchildren, or all those around us who contribute to making our lives what they are. We feel that for nearly all of what makes life worth living, we are beholden to others. And we are. We should never, ever, forget that.
Thank you. For everything.