Thanksgiving Rant

 

Ah yes, Thanksgiving. The sacred holiday where we celebrate gratitude by sprinting through grocery stores like we’re looting in a polite apocalypse.

Every commercial promises: “Make a perfect, stress-free feast for your loved ones!”

Yeah, sure. Nothing says “stress-free” like wrestling a 24-pound frozen turkey the size of a toddler while questioning every life choice that led to this moment. I don’t need culinary inspiration, I need a support group and oven mitts reinforced with emotional stability.

And every ad shows a beautiful family in matching plaid, smiling like no one has ever argued over stuffing moisture … while I’m over here trying to remember if yams and sweet potatoes are the same thing or if this is one of those culinary conspiracies like “vegan cheese” or “gluten-free bread crumbs.”

Then there’s the Thanksgiving table. You’ve got:

• One cousin who suddenly has opinions on inflation
• A loudly keto in-law
• A child secretly slipping cranberry sauce, a known laxative, to the dog
• And your elderly aunt, who has brought a mystery casserole that seems to contain both raisins and trauma

But hey … we’re grateful. We have gratitude. We say things like, “We should do this more than just once a year,” as if we haven’t aged 8 emotional years since sunrise.

Anyway, pass the mashed potatoes. I will be eating them like they are emotional bubble wrap.

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Ahhh ... a good rant always makes me feel better. And holidays always strikes a spark ... even though I’m actually a fan of Thanksgiving. It’s the family reunion that doesn’t require receipts. You just show up with a side dish and a reasonably clean shirt. That’s it. That’s the bar.

There’s something beautifully democratic about that. Everyone brings something to the table, literally and metaphorically. Aunt Pam brings her famous sweet potatoes. Your cousin brings her new boyfriend who “doesn’t really eat turkey.” And Grandpa brings stories that get a little more suspicious each year.

And somehow, it all works. The house smells like butter and sage, everyone pretends to understand football, and for one miraculous day, the only thing we’re expected to exchange is gratitude.

Thanksgiving is the rare holiday that doesn’t ask us to buy love, just to show up for it. 

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Want to join me for a Thanksgiving memory from my youth?

Here ya go: Dueling Turkeys - A Thanksgiving Story