Thanks-Giving: there’s a reason that word is an amalgamation of two.

It’s a bit odd that we still celebrate, as a nation, Thanksgiving. We all know, or at least I think we do, that the stories of the pilgrims and Indians are imaginative stories…like Alice in Wonderland, or Robin Hood. And, I actively identify with and participate in a culture that is post-evangelical-Christian, yet here I am all packed and ready to go visit my parents and siblings. I’m not really sure why I’m doing it, other than the socio-familial obligations that weigh so heavy they are more painful than the over-stuffed feeling that is inherently involved in Thanksgiving dinners. Or any Indian-buffet, for that matter.

The critic within wants to deconstruct Thanksgiving and its overt Christian overtones.
The critic wants to mention that with all this “giving thanks for what we have” there is the day that follows, which is the day of more sales at your local, national, and international department stores, than any day of the year.
The critic wants to ask, “how can you say how thankful you are for what you have when soon after this meal you’ll think of what you don’t have?”.
The critic wants to scoff at how Christians all participate in the same rituals—Turkey, potatoes, rolls, pumpkin-pecan-sweet potato pies, apple cider—and yet somehow their ritual is more acceptable than “those pagans” doing the same.
It’s all gluttony. All of it. Even the “giving thanks” part…a day set aside to overstuff our optimism while suppressing the ungrateful bitches that reside within so that, at least for one day, we can appear to be thankful.
And, of course, appearance is where it’s at. (don’t forget to throw up, all you skinny folks, so you can appear to join in the gluttony without losing the skinny).

This has all went through Carl (the name attached to “My brain”—I’m trying to re-train Carl so that so much isn’t “mine”).

Then again, it is a ritual. There is some religion going on, even if it’s not recognized as a religious rite. And, it is a collective ritual enacted by hundreds of millions throughout our country—those at Wal-Mart or your 24/7 customer service centers being the exceptions. The critic is who tends to be more influential on Carl, but I’m proactively stopping it this time. Not because Thanksgiving is anything special to me, not that I will eat turkey or go shopping Friday or even care what others are thankful for. None of this means anything to me, but it means something to others, and that seems to be what this is more about.

Setting aside a time to look back and realize all that is Gift—all that is bound up with existence that can’t be earned or accrued. Like a girl choosing to love you…we all know, guys, you can’t do anything to get a girl to love you. Maybe fuck you, maybe even like you, but for a girl to love you…she has to give that. Admittedly, this existence has been supported and sustained by more Gift than anything ever acquired by my efforts. Countless friends, parents who have been more supportive than any girl, employers, random strangers, a timing belt that seems to never break…yea, there is lots for me to reflect on and let a grin come through after such reflections. But that’s not the point.

The point seems, Mr. Critic, to be that what matters to you doesn’t matter during this holiday. Critique all you want—they really are valid critiques that should be examined; but until you can love what you tend to critique, then it’s most likely that you won’t cross anyone’s mind when they do their own reflecting.