Thursday, November 22, 2018
Thanksgiving does nothing for me. I'm not keen on the symbols. Buckles? Pilgrims? The myths are all a little stomach turning in light of future events. And, most of all, I don't care for any of the traditional foods. I don't even like them. One of the volunteers at the library I work at told me about one of their family's traditional Thanksgiving dishes. It was jellied (canned) cranberries, whipped cream, and saltine crackers. You get a big bowl and put down a layer of crushed saltines, a layer of whipped cream, and a layer of jellied cranberry, and then you just keep layering over and over until you're done. He said it was really good.
"Hmm." I said. It would have been rude and wouldn't have been understood anyway if I said what I thought, which was "That has to be the most goyish recipe I've ever heard in my life."
But Thanksgiving is kind of a goyish holiday.
I did grow up celebrating it. But after a few decades I managed to winnow down my family to just people I was crazy about. That was one other person total, and since she's not too keen on roasted turkey either there's not a great deal of the traditional holiday going on in my house.
For which, among other things, I am thankful.