Thanksgiving Eve

Sometimes, American society is embarrassing. Especially as it is reflected on television. Especially recently. First it was the political ads – unrelenting and unrelentingly vicious. Now it’s the holiday shopping ads – unrelenting but not so vicious. And all the blood and gore on most of the programs. And lingerie ads. And ads for products enhancing the sexual experience or performance.


I’m not a prude – not really. But sometimes other societies’ criticisms: that we’re all about money (getting and spending -- politicians and whiter teeth) and violence and sex sometimes seems all too accurate.


But what they (other societies) see, as reflected on television or in movies or in revenue-generating headlines, is not what we are. Certainly not my life. Certainly not today. I’m sitting in my study with two cats on my left – one on the windowsill, the other in an open desk drawer. They’ll move soon, when the November sunshine gets too hot. My car is packed with the food I’m taking to a family gathering – mostly tomorrow but starting tonight. My son is flying in tomorrow. (Hooray!)


Nine of us will gather tomorrow: my son and I, my brother and sister-in-law, my nephew and his wife and two wonderful daughters, and a friend who has nowhere else to go on Thanksgiving. Plus, Camille, the dog. (That makes ten, I guess.)


And yes, we’ll have a feast but mostly we’ll just celebrate each other. And when the pandemonium subsides a little, we’ll remember how fortunate we are. Fortunate to live in a country where we can complain about politics and commercialism, where we can work to change things without fear of reprisals, where we can go (or not go) to any house of worship we choose, where most of us have clean water and doctors and friends and food … and some of us even have cats.


So, however flawed the result, I have to admit. The Pilgrims did good.


THANK YOU.