Thanksgiving.
Signifies cooperation, trust, compassion, and will to live.
That of course somehow translates to a large plethora of family values, giving thanks to god and other main figures that fit close to our hearts, which ironically doesn’t usually encompass the Native Americans, and an over surplus of food.
Family Values.
Can be great, if you have the patience to understand them and make them work and if absolutely everyone has the will to make them work. It can be great. But in many cases the quintessential idea of a thanksgiving meal is seen only in minds.
Even the quintessential idea of a train-wrecked thanksgiving meal is so far off it seems to only happen in tales.
If drinking chardonnay alone after a once in a lifetime sit down meal that lasted about 10 minutes is what American’s yearn for-we’d be set.
It’s the usual story of the gravy gone wrong, forgetting to buy whipped cream for the pie, and fighting in the kitchen as it all spirals down. In the movie version there would be a touching moment to tie everything together, to show some kind of moral.
But not here, in real life where tensions still run high. There are reasons for this.
Depression emanates through the season and only seems to get stronger because of the contrasts it takes on against the “jolly” time. However depression is not depicted in these movies because it’s too boring without the rush of blood or the comical drama of therapy. This is perhaps how there can be a touching moral to the story, because almost everything can be quickly mended except depression.
You can’t blame yourself for anything that goes wrong, for that will just make your world a little darker-so when the wrong juice is poured into the gravy mixture and the beans aren’t made and nothing is quite right, it isn’t your fault-it’s theirs. “Theirs” being either a member or the whole family. And when the blame gets thrown argument emerges, whether or not that’s what you intended.
And that’s what tips it off. If the tensions are high and the feelings aren’t happy then why bother having a long conversation while slowly eating the food that everyone knows could have been better if someone had just paid attention?
So it is eaten in almost total conversational silence while the mind wonders how life got to be so dreary instead of thinking of giving thanks.
From this hell, a full glass of chardonnay can save you though. While the others clear the dishes the strained silence finally turns to the peaceful silence of a single person, not trying to keep the intensity of topic low. It warms your mouth with that burning sensation and keeps your thought processes regressing to the times before the best part of thanksgiving was slipping into bed.
There was always a party, back at school right around the national holiday. Some kids would dress up as pilgrims and others as the “Indians”. I always brought wild rice.
I used to never watch the Macy’s day parade too, for I was always busy having fun and reacquainting myself with my mother’s second cousins. We would go to their house every year on this day. It was a large family meal that almost fit the picturesque thanksgiving. Now though the main thing I look forward to is that drawn out parade. It doesn’t raise my spirits, but it gives me something at least a little festive for me to do.
The contrasts hurt the most, I think, between the time when I wasn’t even allowed to drink alcohol to now.
It was better before the alcohol.
But as I said, it saves me.
Signifies cooperation, trust, compassion, and will to live.
That of course somehow translates to a large plethora of family values, giving thanks to god and other main figures that fit close to our hearts, which ironically doesn’t usually encompass the Native Americans, and an over surplus of food.
Family Values.
Can be great, if you have the patience to understand them and make them work and if absolutely everyone has the will to make them work. It can be great. But in many cases the quintessential idea of a thanksgiving meal is seen only in minds.
Even the quintessential idea of a train-wrecked thanksgiving meal is so far off it seems to only happen in tales.
If drinking chardonnay alone after a once in a lifetime sit down meal that lasted about 10 minutes is what American’s yearn for-we’d be set.
It’s the usual story of the gravy gone wrong, forgetting to buy whipped cream for the pie, and fighting in the kitchen as it all spirals down. In the movie version there would be a touching moment to tie everything together, to show some kind of moral.
But not here, in real life where tensions still run high. There are reasons for this.
Depression emanates through the season and only seems to get stronger because of the contrasts it takes on against the “jolly” time. However depression is not depicted in these movies because it’s too boring without the rush of blood or the comical drama of therapy. This is perhaps how there can be a touching moral to the story, because almost everything can be quickly mended except depression.
You can’t blame yourself for anything that goes wrong, for that will just make your world a little darker-so when the wrong juice is poured into the gravy mixture and the beans aren’t made and nothing is quite right, it isn’t your fault-it’s theirs. “Theirs” being either a member or the whole family. And when the blame gets thrown argument emerges, whether or not that’s what you intended.
And that’s what tips it off. If the tensions are high and the feelings aren’t happy then why bother having a long conversation while slowly eating the food that everyone knows could have been better if someone had just paid attention?
So it is eaten in almost total conversational silence while the mind wonders how life got to be so dreary instead of thinking of giving thanks.
From this hell, a full glass of chardonnay can save you though. While the others clear the dishes the strained silence finally turns to the peaceful silence of a single person, not trying to keep the intensity of topic low. It warms your mouth with that burning sensation and keeps your thought processes regressing to the times before the best part of thanksgiving was slipping into bed.
There was always a party, back at school right around the national holiday. Some kids would dress up as pilgrims and others as the “Indians”. I always brought wild rice.
I used to never watch the Macy’s day parade too, for I was always busy having fun and reacquainting myself with my mother’s second cousins. We would go to their house every year on this day. It was a large family meal that almost fit the picturesque thanksgiving. Now though the main thing I look forward to is that drawn out parade. It doesn’t raise my spirits, but it gives me something at least a little festive for me to do.
The contrasts hurt the most, I think, between the time when I wasn’t even allowed to drink alcohol to now.
It was better before the alcohol.
But as I said, it saves me.
This is my favorite peice of photography that was actually done by me.
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