It’s time once again to come to terms with the holidays. Yes, Thanksgiving, and Christmas — really only the former. For the uninitiated, Thanksgiving really has little to do with remembering the Pilgrims.
Full disclosure: my 11th great grandfather was Thomas Rogers, the 15th signature of the Mayflower Compact. Yes, that Mayflower.
Thanksgiving has little to do with spending cherished time with loved ones, whilst desperately peering through an alcoholic haze searching for names to associate with faces. ( i drank two glasses of wine.) Or, a veritable sign post marking the countdown to Black Friday — a cleverly crafted lie; read: economics lesson. In fact, it has little to do with anything these days, except for a few precious, self indulgent days afterwards involving food.
Yeah, that’s right. Leftovers.
Thanksgiving is a time to reenact the meal in perhaps some of the most unsavory, vile, and gut wrenching ways imaginable. After a solid 12 hour day at work, all I could think about was an open faced turkey melt, piled high with mashed potatoes and gravy — loaded with chicken livers, chopped neck meat, and leftover bacon.
Call me American. But, I am truly thankful for that which I am about to receive.