The Lost Turkey of The New World

If you recall, way back in September I blogged my first Christmas tree sighting. Well, this trend towards 'everything Xmas' has continued at a ridiculous pace. I have seen so many "Holiday" (read as "Christmas") decorations weeks before Thanksgiving that I can't take it anymore. OK, so it isn't causing me to have a nervous breakdown, but something has to be said.

I won't rant on the increasing commercialization of Christmas at the cost of what that day is about (whether you are religious or not, it should still be a time of generosity towards those close to you). Instead, I will focus my efforts on the increasing neglect of Thanksgiving, which is without a doubt the most American holiday ever.

Thanksgiving is about being an American: someone who came to this country (or whose ancestors came to this country) to start a new life and seek out new opportunities. It's about hope.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

(Lazarus 1888, 202-3)

Thanksgiving is the celebration of immigrating to this country, to the land of Hope and Liberty. Yes, there are many people who struggle once they move here. Yes, it is tough on immigrants. But consider the alternatives. Consider what other places in the world, for the past 400+ years, has one been able to uproot and leave everything behind, and have everything offered to them upon arrival (in the form of opportunity and hope, mixed with elbow grease).

Where else in the world can you be born dirt poor and die fabulously wealthy? Sure, some of these rags-to-riches stories occur at the equivalent odds of winning the lottery, but that isn't the point. The point is that it happens.

We forget this. We forget how much we have, and how much we take for granted. We care too much that our burrito didn't have enough beans in it, rather than caring that we were able to eat enough to fill our bellies. New York City is the best place to observe the ungrateful: I have had a "homeless" guy who was begging for change to buy something to drink refuse a half-full bottle of Snapple that I offered him. WTF? I have seen women in fur coats get into a heated argument about the coffee they just purchased with the guys who work at the donut carts where they purchased it.

These people forget what America is about. They forget what Thanksgiving is about: being grateful for what we have, giving thanks, and celebrating the fact that we are fortunate enough to stuff ourselves with food to the point of exhaustion, illness, and idiocy. Why? Because we can.

So when you are lying on the sofa, with grams of tryptophan flowing through your bloodstream, the post-dinner coffee and 3 slices of pie don't even have enough 'pep' to keep you awake, and you aren't sure if you will slip into a coma or vomit, just think about how fortunate you are to experience that discomfort.