“You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides, you will play golf, and enjoy hot hors d’oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, ‘Do not trust the Pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller.'”
I guess that means I’m thankful to live in a land that allows me to be this glib. I like being glib. While it might be traditional to skewer a silly Thanksgiving episode of an American sitcom from the 80s (I don’t think anyone has hit the Family Ties episodes, for example), I’ve, instead, chosen to go the more sentimental route. Chalk it up to the cold medicine, if you like.
Even in Southern California, Thanksgiving used to mean cold weather, well, as cold as readers in other states/countries might allow. With the coming of global warming, it’s not always as weather-y as I remember these days. Funny how that happens. On Wednesdays, there is the tradition of brining day, in which my grandparents discuss weather or not the wet brine formula includes fresh apples (it does).
There used to be a time when MST3K was on the air and we’d watch every episode Comedy Central may available. I recall the first airing of the Mexican Santa Claus was on a Thanksgiving day long ago.
Another tradition: I get sick on Thanksgiving. Some years, it’s just a migraine then next day brought on from too much pumpkin pie. Most years, it’s a full on cold like the one I have today.
Such is the Kingdom of Heaven, after all.
I suppose that means tomorrow, I’ll fire up some MST3K episodes and annoy my family with something other than football. See you all next week when I give one of my least favorite Bond movies another chance.