I never met a Thanksgiving I didn’t like. I like the turkey, homemade rolls and pumpkin pie. I like the family gatherings and watching the Macey’s Thanksgiving Parade. I like the football games. I like everything . . . except . . . well, maybe the sweet potatoes. We have them even though nobody eats them because . . . because it’s Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving is about tradition, counting our blessings and counting our heritage as Americans, which began in 1620, when William Bradford and his little band of English castoffs made the two-month voyage across the Atlantic Ocean searching for religious freedom and a new life. Sick and exhausted, they landed at Plymouth Rock in December and were forced to spend much of the winter on the Mayflower. Half of them died. In the spring, friendly natives, led by Chief Massosoit, rescued them by teaching them how to hunt, fish and grow native crops. In the fall of 1621, those who survived hosted the first Thanksgiving feast of wild turkey, venison, pumpkin pie, vegetables, oysters, clams and bread. Sound familiar?
I’m not proud of how Massosoit’s descendants were ultimately thanked for extending the hospitality of this land. While Americans proudly sing, "This land is your land, this land is my land," it is my belief that when all is said and done, Native Americans are right. This land belongs to the Great Spirit, and the good things that come from it are a result of His direction, not ours. For this, I am grateful.
Thanksgiving came a little early this year when our nation was brought to its knees on September 11th . . . the day when every American was reminded that taking blessings and freedoms for granted is a skill most of us have mastered to perfection.
Three cheers for Thanksgiving. Here’s to stuffing the turkey and ourselves. Here’s to clogging the phone lines and airwaves by talking to relatives who are feasting in distant locations. Here’s to the whole family, surrounding the table, pausing to thank God. And last of all . . . here’s to the sweet potatoes!
