My Thanksgiving Day
By Melinda Giordano
It all started in September.
I was marketing with the Boyfriend, and at one point I stopped in mid-aisle to exclaim, “Where are the roasting pans? It’s late September! Where are the cranberries?”
You see, with the beginning of September, the first of the blessed quartet of 3-syllable months, my mind will turn to Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving, and all of its lovely panic-strewn preparations. Previously, the holiday would either be a restaurant meal, or one at a relative’s home. A meal full of thanks to be sure, but also one that would last only a few hours. For me, when Thanksgiving is in someone else’s hands, the celebrations are always far too brief.
So, years and years ago, I decided to have the meal at my apartment. And this brought about a paradigm shift in my perception of Thanksgiving. Between shopping, cleaning and cooking, my prep work begins in October. And I will begin to sniff around for new recipes in September (doubling my annoyance with the Halloween menus on the covers of all the cooking magazines. What’s to plan? Give me a vat full of Heath bars and I’m happy).
Therefore, it is safe to say that my Thanksgiving lasts for 3 months. As a result I will be sore, weak, and often ill from being made-of-all-work for such a distance of time. My sciatica will be erupting. But it is still glorious.
Now, I hope this doesn’t frighten people away from Thanksgiving. Because no matter how you choose to celebrate this peculiarly American and hedonistic day, please make sure that you do. For this day was not made to be joyless.