My first Thanksgiving

Standing, leaping, squelching, shoving, pushing, falling, ramming, WAIT....was that Mickey Mouse I just saw??? Landing at the Macys Thanksgiving Parade seemed a far cry short of Plymouth Rock as a spectacle of floats, balloons and performers welcome the traditional festivities of the holiday. A joyous day for all the family to celebrate with heightened spirits as their favourite characters are propelled 70 feet high in the sky! However, as I perilously lean on a ledge to try and catch a glimpse of the show, I wonder whether the idea of a parade as a magical experience is as fake a concept as the balloons themselves. With millions of spectators paraded to the streets of New York before their morning espresso, the merriment turned into madness. Elbows and knees at the ready, millions flock to ensure a good viewing experience of the big event. All have gathered to celebrate the beginning of the holiday season, a time to reflect on the importance of family and friends while waving enthusiastically to the Saturday Night Live cast. In spite of the mayhem, as I am ushered and pushed through the crowd, a sense of joy and entertainment engulfs the masses.

As my hand grew tired from snapping and waving away, we returned to Long Island where, in a strange turn of events, American natives were hosting the first Thanksgiving meal for us English brood. I am told that Thanksgiving is a time of year to give thanks for all ones blessings and celebrate the ushering of the holiday season. However, the story of Thanksgiving is a novice concept, something about Pilgrims and Native Americans being friendly? I am told that Americans now celebrate their amicability by eating, spending time with family and talking about how great it is to be American. Yet, since being in America this semester I have failed to meet a single Pilgrim or Native American so I can’t help but wonder how this occasion turned into a national holiday? Did Americans suddenly miss the vast presence of the two races and want to remind themselves of their origins? Or is the opportunity to feast while having a day off work too good an opportunity to pass down? Either way the holiday certainly cheers up the nation, allowing people to reflect on their blessings and spend time with loved one while failing to acknowledge the weather’s attempt to dampen people’s spirits.

The feast itself was spectacular; a traditional array of turkey, pumpkin pie and sweet potato enveloped the table. I was at that moment thankful to be submerged in a holiday where food was the main ingredient and sleep was the dessert. As the blissful aroma of the turkey filled the house and I was immersed in warmth and joy, I contemplated what I should be thankful for. My friends...my family...being able to survive the Macys Thanksgiving parade? Giving thanks is not embedded in the British psyche but rather a generic term to avoid insulting British politeness. The nearest equivalent we have to Thanksgiving is the Harvest Festival, a time that very few celebrate and few have heard of. Instead, we pride ourselves in holidays that encourage drinking and do not involve any patriotic symbolism. We turn shy about expressing proud beliefs in living in a free, democratic country. Therefore, I stood still as the pendulum of thanks paused at me on the table, what was it again that I was thankful for? Oh yes, my family and friends. However, the Brits are no stranger to the traditions of eating, sleeping and eating some more. As we dug into the meal and tucked ourselves into a turkey doze, I certainly welcomed the delights of Thanksgiving into my life. It seems like a holiday I can certainly get used to.