Thanksgiving is one of those holidays that manages to be sentimental, chaotic, delicious, and mildly absurd all at once, which is probably why people love it so much. It has a wholesome origin story, a heap of traditions that range from charming to questionable, and enough food to feed a small village. Perfect blogging material.
The roots go back to the early seventeenth century when the Pilgrims, having survived a brutal first year in what would become the United States, held a harvest celebration with the Wampanoag people who had helped them not starve. There is plenty of debate about how rosy the event actually was, but the general idea was simple enough, a shared meal to mark survival, harvest, and community. Over time this mellowed into a national holiday where the food intake is heroic and the gratitude is sometimes whispered between mouthfuls of pie.
Modern Thanksgiving is a cocktail of tradition and pure cultural theatre. The food takes centre stage, obviously. Turkey is the big one, although plenty of families quietly admit the bird itself is dry and rely on stuffing and gravy to save it. There is also the parade of side dishes: mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casseroles, something involving cranberries that looks like it escaped from a laboratory, and bread. Endless bread. Dessert then rolls in like a well-meaning aunt who refuses to take no for an answer. Pumpkin pie, pecan pie, apple pie, basically anything that can be placed inside pastry and justified as seasonal.
Then there is the football marathon. Even if you do not care for the sport, it becomes soothing background noise while you argue over who forgot to defrost the turkey or why Uncle Whoever insists on talking politics again. Some families have swapped football for board games, others for a post-meal nap that borders on a minor coma. There is no wrong way to do it.
The Macy’s Parade is another tradition, with giant balloons wobbling heroically through New York like they are trying their best not to drift off into the river. Watching a gigantic inflatable cartoon character being guided down a street by dozens of handlers is far funnier than the organisers probably intended.
There are smaller quirks too. Some families go all out on table décor, some do a gratitude circle where everyone awkwardly tries not to cry, and others treat the day as an excuse to bring out recipes that only make sense once a year. Leftovers then become a form of competitive sport. People build towering sandwiches held together purely by hope, gravy, and engineering instinct.
At its core, Thanksgiving is a moment to pause, eat absurd amounts of food, spend time with people you like or at least tolerate, and admit that life is messy but still worth celebrating. It is history, ritual, carbs, and a pinch of chaos all piled on the same plate.
And finally:
Q: Why did the turkey join a band?
A: Because it already had drumsticks.
