Thanksgiving is just around the corner, so it’s time to make peace-for-a-day with your in-laws, siblings, cousins — all of them, from lunatic liberals to MAGA crazies.
You never know who’ll be at the table. The country is on edge, and your family is no exception. Turkey united us in the Norman Rockwell years, but now half the family is vegan, gluten sensitive or fearful of peanuts. We’ve become complicated.
Your nephew just home from college is going to grill you about your carbon footprint. Your uncle hasn’t slept in three days because he’s binge-watching Fox News. You can’t even offer your guests ice for their drinks. ICE! Don’t even say it.
It was simpler back when we’d hop in the sleigh and go over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house. Grandpa would tell boring stories and then fall asleep, every year, just like clockwork. “Tell us again how great swing music was, Grandpa.” If he dozed off before he started telling racist jokes, then all was right with the world.
In those days we knew our families were a bit off. Now we want to fix things. But you can’t get it done on Thanksgiving. Rome wasn’t built in a day. It wasn’t sacked in a day either.
I look at it this way: Thanksgiving is Stuffing Day. Stuff the old resentments. Your older brother never apologized for the noogies he gave you. Your sister said you were ugly. Your trust fund was invested in the Penn Central Railroad, just like your brother-in-law advised.
Stuff all that for a day. Catch up with the family news (the real dirt will remain unspoken). Eat up and you’ll attain a psychological state known to therapists as “fat and happy.” Droop on the couch as someone turns on a random college football game — the Fighting Hog Callers vs. the Battling Baristas — and your eyelids will feel delightfully heavy as you sink deeper.
Rich people go on week-long retreats in Malibu to feel at one with the universe. They eat strange food and listen to crackpot gurus. And here you are, on your Thanksgiving couch, thinking of nothing, drifting into nirvana. All thanks to turkey and stuffing.
And they haven’t even brought out the pies!
My mother used to make three for Thanksgiving: apple, mincemeat and apple/mincemeat. There was some chocolate cream pie hanging about, too. In later years cheesecake made the scene.
This sugar high would dispatch the holiday troops into a second coma, maybe during a Thanksgiving TV special. Sure, I’ll watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” for the 20th time.
Stuffing Day is also Dopamine Day, because the turkey, potatoes, squash and pies boost the feelgood hormone into stratospheric levels. It’s a state best shared with loved ones, because … why not. We are social animals who annoy each other, likely quite often. We should grease the skids with whatever helps. Booze is risky. Stick with pie.
Aside from family issues, it’s also a swell idea to make a list, however small, of things to be grateful for. I will be thankful when the transformation of Main Street in West Lebanon is complete. You know, traffic jams aren’t my thing. One of the reasons we like the Upper Valley is that traffic flows as it should. All government decisions should start and end with that.
I’m thankful for my close family, of course. If I get too schmaltzy about them here I will have to back it up in real life, which is a challenge for a non-expressive guy. Take my word for it.
Little things matter as well. I am thankful for the McVitie’s digestive cookies we get from the co-op. They are from the United Kingdom where they call them biscuits for reasons lost in history, maybe something to do with the final battle of Richard III: “My kingdom for a horse — or a biscuit would be nice.”
I will be thankful when the last leaves finally fall from a stupid tree that hangs over my garage. It portions out a small number daily so it feels I will never be rid of them. They are a torment, and test my patience and raking skills.
I am thankful for lots more, but right now I am particularly grateful we have the means to share with people who don’t have so much. We are very far from rich, but the house is warm, there’s tread on the tires, and all is well with the electric company.
The recent SNAP snafu revealed that many are not so fortunate, inspiring a local outpouring of cash and food. Good job, everyone.
It seems the Upper Valley responds when alarm bells sound. For that I am thankful, an extra heaping helping of it.
Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.