“Gratitude is riches; complaint is poverty.” I read that somewhere.
“Better to give than receive.” I read that somewhere.
Day after Thanksgiving, stuff’s on sale. That I understand.
It’s a time to sit at a table with relatives who talk about themselves when you’re thinking of yourself.
It’s a time when, being polite, you ask your uncle how he feels — and he tells you.
On a normal evening you’d have a party just not to invite him.
It all began Sept. 6, 1620, when those Pilgrims sailed for the New World on the Mayflower. No iPads. No Xboxes. No men’s crotches grazing on the ground. No ladies boobs floating in the soup.
Starving upon arrival in Plymouth Rock was just one thought: Flee British oppression. Come to America and Obama’s oppression.
Dec. 11, 1620, the new settlers brought their bangers and mash, kidney pudding, fish and chips, pork scratchings and wild rabbit recipes into Plymouth. Quickly they saw burgers, fries, popcorn, peanut butter, mac ’n’ cheese, and knew they’d found heaven.
March 22, 1621, by the shores of Gitchie Goomie, by the shining big sea water, long before Kathleen Sebelius — may her tripe decrease — cooked up her mish mosh, harmony reigned.
Both sides of the woods came together. No congressional aisle then.
Nancy Pelosi’s hair colorist hadn’t even been born. No PETA yet, no anti-smoking yet so the chief schlepped out a buffalo robe, dragged out a peace pipe, passed around the wife’s maize hors d’oeuvres and the newcomers signed a treaty with the Wampanoags.
Autumn 1621, they invited Massasoit and his buddies to a three-day festival — long before Kerry schlepped to and from the Middle East bearing nothing but hair spray. The feast was to celebrate their bounty. How such a good harvest, not clear. This was long before the agricultural committees, surgeon general warnings, AMA regulations, Bloomberg fatso rulings, school dieticians, ban on salt and sugar and contaminated veggies were taken off the shelves.
1621. The Pilgrims’ First Thanksgiving. Without TSA agents, traffic cops, potholes, electric cars, private planes, smelly buses or Second Avenue someday subway, everyone got there on time for Uncle Meyer and his tomahawk to hack the turkey.
Understand, nobody called around to determine what to wear.
There was no deli takeout or canned cranberry sauce. The hostess threw up a pot of water and tossed in a few Brussels sprouts. Not enough wheat around for flour so the rugelach, macaroons, prune danish and Grandma Prudence’s wobbly cheesecake came later.
It was cold. Supplies were low. But the Wampanoags ate good. No seconds on stuffing. Not even firsts. We’re talking mussels, oysters, dried fruits. Also deer and venison, ducks and geese. Potatoes weren’t around. It was cabbage, onions, pumpkin squash and porridge.
1777. Congress proclaims the holiday annually. 1789 President George Washington gives it the official OK. He knew his wooden teeth could inhale mashed yams. 1798 President John Adams declares it official. 1815 President James Madison, whose wife Dolley Madison loved parties, gives it the Good Housekeeping seal of approval and right away comes the Cooking Channel and sending away for Rachael Ray’s bottle of gravy sauce.
1863. President Lincoln, tired of reading biographies about himself, establishes Thanksgiving an annual tradition — and as we all know you can’t budge the White House.
1941. President Roosevelt makes Thanksgiving a national fourth Thursday of November holiday. Mazel tov, as his patrician socialite mother would say.
Today it’s the biggest travel period. And before transplants lumber home to the family they haven’t seen in a year, dermatologists say it’s their heaviest Botox season.
Somehow, back in Whitefish, Mont., the kinfolk always look dowdy. Even their hairpieces are gray.
The tradition is rooted in England’s Protestant reformation. Cranky Henry the VIII railed against 95 Catholic holidays plus 52 Sundays. Reducing it to 27, he added a Day of Fasting over the 1588 Spanish Armada.
What happened after that, who knows? I only know next week begins a marathon of turkey dinners, cold turkey legs, hot turkey sandwiches, frozen turkey, minced turkey, turkey pot pie, turkey soup, turkey hash, turkey burgers.
Be grateful. Give thanks. Ship the leftovers to my house.