It’s
Thanksgiving Day and no one wants
another long, yammering post of historic or philosophic pretension. So you are all off the hook today. You don’t get one. Go, enjoy the holiday. Just keep in mind these few simple rules
- If you spend the day in a homeless shelter, soup kitchen, jail, hospital, nursing home, or even on the street blatantly and illegally feeding the hungry, read no more. Your sins have been erased and forgotten and you win a gold star in the middle of your forehead.
- Sleep in a little. No matter how much there is to do, you will need your rest. Strong coffee with at least the pre-show for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is OK.
- It’s alright to come early and spend the day—AS LONG AS THOSE NOT ACTUALLY COOKING OR HELPING BY REQUEST STAY THE HELL OUT OF THE KITCHEN.
- If you are coming, bring something, anything to add to the feast and festivities unless you are explicitly warned against if by the occasional fussy perfect Hosts and Hostesses. It does not have to be homemade, expensive, or complicated. Just not poisonous.
- If you are not cooking, help with the set up. Not every home has a state dining room, plenty of matching chairs, and infinite table leaves. Be prepared to move furniture aside, scour the house for any chair that will not collapse, including the folding chairs rusting in the garage. Try to make sure there are plates, bowls, glasses, and silverware at every seat. They do not have to match. In a pinch Ronald McDonald plates will suffice. Be prepared to ferry food from the kitchen as directed.
- Try to seat the children at the table. If this is not possible, do not ask teenagers to sit at the kids’ table. They will know you just want them to baby sit and hate you so much that you may later not want to be alone with them near the plug in your nursing home.
- Speaking of children, if any are present at least one will smash an heirloom platter, spill a two litter of Coke on the kitchen floor and everyone’s feet will be sticky the rest of the day, or pour gravy on the cat. Smile sweetly. This will become a beloved family story, and will embarrass the miscreant for decades to come.
- It is alright for some folks to watch some football when dinner is not on the table or family social time is not in force as long as men don’t hog the couches and beer and women are not made galley slaves and serving wenches.
- When dinner is finally ready, firmly demand that all electronics be put away. This will cause shrieks and wails of protest, some of it from actual teenagers, the rest from relatives who realize you do not want them posting the meal live on Twitter. There will be sulking. Almost everyone will get over it. Then tell some of the men that means turning of the football game as well.
- Saying grace is fine. If you are a host, take a look around your table and if you are not completely sure that everyone there shares your exact and passionate religious convictions, try to make the prayer as inclusive as possible. Don’t ask for salvation of lost souls. No adding political diatribes in the guise of prayer—right or left. If you are a guest and hear a prayer that does not conform to your preferences unless a thumb has been stuck directly in your eye, smile and ignore it. Chances are that no matter how doltish the person praying meant well.
- This is not the occasion to go to war over food choices. Let what you won’t/can’t eat pass by. Carnivores do not ridicule the vegetarians—and hosts make sure they have something to eat. Vegetarians, vegans, and Ethical eaters spare everyone your diatribes. You knew what you were in for when you agreed to come.
- There almost surely will be at least one dramatic, cathartic moment at the table when old resentments are laid bare and skeletons come tumbling out of the closet. A few tears, even a little screaming and a dramatic stomping away from the table clear the air like a thunderstorm on the prairie. Afterwards if there is love and a dollop of understanding, the expectant tension broken, things feel better. Pass the pies.
- After dinner the COOKS ARE EXEMPT FROM CLEAN-UP AND DISHWASHING!!!! There are no guests at Thanksgiving. Everyone is literal, figurative, or honorary family. Roll up your sleeves and pitch it. With a group effort, and plenty of take home containers for leftovers, it doesn’t take long.
- Don’t everybody scatter the second the pie is put away. Deal the cards on the cleared table, play charades or parlor games. If there is a piano or guitar, start the singing. Share scrapbooks. Break out your best lies.
- After a while it is alright to surrender to lethargy, sprawl listlessly on sofas and easy chairs, go gape mouthed and stupid. Even snore a little. There must be some sappy old movie on to pretend to watch.
- And the most important rule of all—DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT GOING SHOPPING! If you do, I will hunt you down and hurt you.
Now
that we’ve got that straight, here is the poem I threatened you with. It’s a little prayer, really, feel free to
use it if it fits. Or not. No pressure.
A
Thanksgiving Prayer for Those Who Don’t Pray
Thanks for the
hands.
All of them.
That dug and scratched,
reaped and loaded,
milled and butchered,
baked and cooked,
served and scrubbed.
The cracked,
the bleeding,
the blistered hands.
The hands that
hewed and
smelted,
sawed and hammered,
wove and sewed,
put together and took apart.
The calloused,
the
greasy,
the grimy hands.
The hands that
wrote and painted,
plucked and keyed
carved and created.
The graceful,
the supple,
the
nimble hands.
The hands that
caressed
and fondled,
stroked and
petted,
held and
are held,
grasped and
gave,
played and
prayed.
The warm,
the soft,
the
forgiving hands.
And today bless even the hands that
shoved and
scourged,
slapped and
smote,
bound and
chained us.
The harsh,
the hateful,
the heavy hands.
Today they
cannot still our hands
from their pleasure and their duty.
The void of
anger they create,
our hands fill with love.
The gentle,
the clasping,
the reaching hands.
—Patrick Murfin
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