my favorite day

You can keep your Christmas, your Valentine’s Day, your birthdays and your New Year’s. There’s only one holiday that holds a place in my heart, and it’s the one that’s coming up in a couple of weeks.


I love Thanksgiving. Love love love. I don’t know if it says something about me that my favorite holiday is one devoted to gluttony, but I don’t care. Pass the damn stuffing.

Yes, there’s that whole “anti-Thanksgiving” movement, about how the story is not so warm and fuzzy and “Indians-Settlers working together yay!” as your first-grade textbook makes out and therefore Thanksgiving is evil. EVIL. I’ve received emails about “anti-Thanksgiving” days. I was a history major, damn it. I understand all these things. I understand the history.

But–for me Thanksgiving is about family. Food that means family, and family that means coziness and happiness. Memories of my grandma’s house and a dozen relatives around the table and running around with my cousins and–man I love Thanksgiving.

Last year I was in England for Thanksgiving and–for some strange reason–they do not understand its significance. They ate the food that I made (Thanksgiving dinner for 13! I win a medal of awesome.) and some of the magic was there, but not all of it.

But today I’m back in the U. S. of A, and today I bought my plane ticket and I’ll be flying home for Thanksgiving. The only thing Thanksgiving needs is songs, because I want to sing one right now.