To be thankful for Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is rolling around again. Hard to believe it's been a year already since we had the last Great Debate (where to eat dinner). It is my favorite holiday, and I think I put too much pressure on it. All year I think about Thanksgiving and it gets built up in my head, and then the day arrives, and it doesn't work out how I planned, I don't feel any different, and I get deflated and frustrated by my lack of awareness. In fact, I would do a better job at making it turn out that way if I could remember what I had thought about all year. It's like going to the movie store; all week I think of movies I want to see and when I get there I can't remember even one of them.

We don't have a particular tradition, and I typically don't go to the same place two years in a row. There is just something about that day that makes me warm and fuzzy on the inside when I think about it, and I love it. It might be that it signals the start of the Christmas season. Although, that always sneaks up on me too and flies by before I can get in the spirit. It never fails that a week after Christmas I am suddenly overwhelmed by the Christmas spirit with no outlet for it. It might be that Thanksgiving is not a religious holiday and there isn't any gift giving or commercialization involved. Or, it might be, cheesy as it sounds, that I like the prospect of reflecting back on the year and being thankful. At least, that's how I feel about it all year long, until the day arrives and I forget what to do.

Every year for as long as I can remember my father has read, or clipped out and sent to me Art Buchwald's tongue in cheek Thanksgiving Day column. In it Mr. Buchwald attempts to explain Le Jour de Merci Donnant to the French. While the preface is different, the column is basically the same every printing, and it never ceases to make me chuckle. The prospect of reading that usually is what ignites my love of Thanksgiving Day. Sadly, after being in and out of hospice, he eventually caught The Last Flight Out on my birthday in 2007, having filmed his own obituary. He also wrote a column to be published after he died where he talks about not having eaten enough eclairs in his life. That is a man after my own heart.

He's right, you know. The story of Thanksgiving is a little ridiculous if you'll pardon my saying so. The concept is great, but the actual history of it isn't, and it's probably best that we all instill our own meaning into it anyway. So maybe, this is enough. My Thanksgiving can be complete by reading his rendition of Kilometres Deboutish (Miles Standish) and les pelerins. I'll eat some eclairs (one for me and one for Mr. Buchwald) so I am sure to have consumed my share, and that will be my Thanksgiving. The tradition can travel with me wherever the day ends up, regardless of what else comes my way, and it will make me happy.

"Whether it's the best of times or the worst of times, it's the only time you've got." - Art Buchwald

ps. If I could list all the columns of his that I love I would, but the list would be long. If you have time please look him up online, The Washington Post has most of his articles, and read a few.