Happy Thanksgiving

I love Thanksgiving. If there is one American holiday I really enjoy, this is it. To me, this is a piece of that idealized America which I admired and idealized and dreamed about as a boy. A celebration of perseverance, peace, forgiveness and success at the dusk of the year.

I like the fact that there are no greeting cards to sign, no presents to buy, and no ridiculous costumes to wear. And once a year, Thanksgiving makes me think about my family and miss it. Because this is a holiday of the last gasp of autumn, rapidly changing into winter, and the last flash of sanity before the Christmas season begins.

OK, there is also turkey involved. Turkey is not a very tasty bird, and apparently, it was not even eaten by the pilgrims at that first Thanksgiving. It’s a pain to cook, it’s huge and harsh, its skin is unchewable, and it’s usually stuffed with some unidentified mixture of produce. But thankfully, on the Thanksgiving dinners I’ve been to, there’s always plenty of other foods to eats, and I always end up stuffing myself tighter than even the biggest turkey.

I remember my first Thanksgiving about 13 years ago. My first semester in a small college in Pennsylvania was coming to an end, but after 3 months in America, I have seen very little outside of the sleepy small rural town where I was studying. And that’s when I received an invitation to visit my distant relatives in New Jersey for Thanksgiving. I managed to bum a ride, and was on my way.

I can still recall that feeling of awe and shock when I saw New York City for the first time on that visit. My aunt took me for a little excursion across the Hudson River around the Lower Manhattan. We strolled in the narrow canyons of financial streets, watched ferries depart for Statue of Liberty, and took the lift to the top of the World Trade Center. It was open-roof access at that time, and it was absolutely stunning. My aunt also took me to the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center where there was already a huge Christmas tree, Fifth Avenue, Central Park and of course, the Times Square. I must have looked like Borat, standing there with my mouth open, gazing around me in reverie of the shining neon light and billboards.

I also remember the excellent dinner at my aunt’s house. I got to see my distant Polish relatives who have lived in New Jersey for years. They were very welcoming and warm, and it was fun communicating in the mixture of Polish and English. There was vodka, lots of it, there were potatoes, there was Polish sausage, there were delicious salads, there were pickles, there were cakes and pies, and of course, turkey. I had been feeling nostalgic in my small college town, but this was as close to being home as I’d ever felt in America. It was a great Thanksgiving, and I have loved that holiday ever since.