This year I will not be writing about the first ‘Thanksgiving Day’–not debating what the Plymouth Plantation settlers ate, why we are celebrating that day at all, or how Native Peoples perceive it. When I was young, Thanksgiving Day generated mixed feelings then too.
While my grandmother was alive, our house was a veritable lightning rod for people–aunts, uncles, and what seemed like a billion cousins who appeared out of nowhere and filled the house until it burst. Back then I didn’t appreciate it as I do now. At the time I simply saw it as a day when there was no leisure time, when I washed and dried dishes all day so that the next influx of guests could have refreshments. When my fingers became like prunes and they were allowed a rest from the dish water, my time was taken up in babysitting the visitor’s children, or playing games to keep us quiet so the adults could talk. Continue reading
