Thanksgiving has always been considered a uniquely American holiday, something Americans invented, refined, perfected, and patented.
It’s true that most serious historians trace the origins of Thanksgiving as we know it to that now famous occasion when Pilgrims and Native Americans sat down to eat, drink, be merry and watch some violent sporting events, the feast giving each side the opportunity to give their respective thanks (the Pilgrims were congratulating themselves on the fact that the world wasn’t flat after all while the Native Americans were telling each other how no, it did not mean the neighborhood was going to the dogs because, hey, there was just the one boatload of these guys.)
From those humble beginnings, Thanksgiving grew to become one of the country’s biggest holidays – so big, in fact, that the politicians don’t even dare move it to a Monday. Now, eating stupendously large amounts of food is a time-honored American tradition, certainly not one found in your more impoverished nations of the world where most families can’t even afford a decent place setting.
But if the truth be known, the idea behind Thanksgiving is an ancient one. The origins are now lost in the dust of time, but it is pretty well documented that the ceremonial killing and eating of fowl goes back at least to the ancient Greeks. The idea, however, never really caught on, perhaps due to the fact that the Greeks, not having turkeys, had to make do with a stuffed sparrow as the main course and everyone always left the table hungry. Eventually, the Greeks decided that exercise might make them fitter than feasting anyway, so they opted for athletic contests. Hence, Thanksgiving gave way to the Olympics.
The idea, though, was stolen by the Romans, who knew a good idea when they could seize it and were widely known for feasting at the drop of a helmet. The Romans were happy to give thanks for being the most powerful empire around, but then one of the emperors decided it wasn’t very sporting to ax some poor bird when there were plenty of slaves hanging around with spare heads, so a gladiatorial contest was added to the holiday.
Alas, the Roman Thanksgiving passed into oblivion along with the rest of its civilization. The holiday was brutally suppressed as a communist conspiracy during the Dark Ages, and it didn’t resurface until the Renaissance, when gorging on food became all the rage among the European intelligentsia, such as they were.
Then came the Reformation, when the holiday was wracked by internal dissent among its celebrants. The rift initially began when conservative thanks-givers objected to radicals who believed that it was acceptable to eat something other than fowl, such as pork or beef or tuna on rye. Well, all heck broke loose, as you can imagine, with arguments deteriorating into endless debates over the merits of moist versus dry stuffing and whether yams or sweet potatoes were the sacred accompaniments.
The dispute lingered for years, causing three wars, one revolt and two police actions, until a Council on Holidays was convened to finally rule on the proper menu. Naturally, it adopted a compromise proposed by a study commission, and liver mush (fois gras for the picky French) became the official Thanksgiving entrée.
That was enough for the Pilgrims, who lit out in search of culinary freedom in the New World. Needless to say, the holiday died out in Europe, and it was touch and go for the Pilgrims’ version early on. The first obstacle, of course, was deciding what to eat with their new freedom. Stay with fowl, or opt for something revolutionary? The powerful ham lobby weighed in, offering free pork if they were selected as the prime colony contractor for the main course. The seafood interests argued that fish would be healthier fare. The beef crowd was adamant that nothing beats a good steak; even when it was pointed out that there weren’t technically any cows in the New World they wanted to postpone the whole dinner while they sent back to England for some take out.
All the kids, naturally, wanted spaghetti.
In the end, the Pilgrims decided to go with those homely birds that were always trotting around in the woods.
Then came the sticky issue of whether or not to invite the locals. The Native Americans had, after all, graciously refrained from slaughtering the Pilgrims as soon as they landed (as had been argued by some of the more xenophobic natives). But the isolationists argued that this was supposed to be their feast, and wouldn’t inviting a bunch of scruffy strangers open the doors in the future to all manner of shiftless relatives popping in for a free lunch?
The isolationists also argued that linkage with the original inhabitants of the New World would lead to free trade, thereby undermining the fledgling Plymouth economy, potentially choking off industrial development and – worst of all to the people with a Puritan work ethic – costing jobs.
Hogwash, retorted the free enterprising crowd. This is a new world, and we have to think in terms of a global economy, they said. These are the 1620s, after all.
So it was that the natives were invited, and of course they showed up as a tribe rather than as the single individual representative as had been anticipated. Red faces were much in evidence – among the Pilgrims – as they explained that they just didn’t have enough food to feed such a mob. Not to worry, answered the natives. Quick as a wink, a few hunters went out and returned with game enough to feed everyone – much to the delight of the anti-turkey crowd.
But then there was considerable squawking over the seating arrangements – much thought had gone into whether round or rectangular tables were in order until the Pilgrims realized they didn’t have any round ones – since everyone wanted to sit at the head of the table next to the chief, who solved the dilemma by sitting on the ground where he thought all civilized people dined.
The feast itself was a great success as were the fun and games that followed: archery demonstrations, pumpkin seed spitting contests, face painting for the kids, and a celebrity golf tournament. The event was such a hit, in fact, that everyone decided to do it again the next year, although there was general agreement that the cranberry sauce should be deleted from the menu and perhaps they should lose the oyster stuffing as well.
Thus, the very first American tradition was born, if you don’t count claiming real estate as yours even when there are people already living there. Now Thanksgiving is a time to appreciate all of our freedoms, such as the freedom to choose what to eat, but even more importantly it’s a time to eat enough so that we can make it through what lies ahead: the Christmas shopping season.
