Do you remember this song? I do. We sang it every year in my grammar school assemblies. It encapsulates all that I love, and remember, about Thanksgiving. In fact, my memories of Thanksgivings are not so different from the dinner scene portrayed by Dylan Thomas in his story, A Child’s Christmas in Whales, especially as it is narrated by Aubrey Davis at the annual Celtic Christmas Concert.

Perusing google to gather some background about the holiday, I was disturbed to find that not everyone feels as I do. In fact, some posts seem to have deliberately set out to debunk–one by one–all of the stories that, over the years, have come to constitute the lore of Thanksgiving. Surely, facts are important. But history–as Fernand Braudel might be the first to point out–is a living, on-going process.

the original Thanksgiving Story might best be conceived as a well fertilized seed kernel that has evolved and by hybridized over time in the course of our history.

Accordingly , the original Thanksgiving Story might best be conceived as a well fertilized seed kernel that has evolved and been hybridized over time throughout the course of our history–a point that sociologist, Edward Shils, has emphasized in his book Tradition. From this perspective, we can understand how, today, the Thanksgiving holiday has become a truly American legend, incorporating and embracing many diverse groups which–each in their own ways, and according to their own traditions–celebrate the essence of the tale–thankfulness, generosity, family, openness, and kindness towards others.

Beginning on Wednesday, my husband and I began to reenact our own Thanksgiving traditions. I had taken the day off so as to have time to clean the house, do baking, polish silverware, and cut and prepare a wonderful assortment of root vegetables in advance of the big day.

Next morning, we arose early, giving us time to carry out our own annual rituals. To begin, we reread the section on cooking poultry in our well-worn, and seasoned, cookbook The Joy of Cooking, just to be sure that we avoided the many pitfalls my mother had so emphatically warned me about in my youth, as I helped her prepare Thanksgiving dinner. Then, with the turkey stuffed, and well wedged into the oven, we set out, with our dog Sparky, for our traditional hike in Rock Creek Park. The sun was out, the air was crisp, and everyone we met along the way was full of smiles, greeting us with “Have a nice Thanksgiving!”. We arrived back home, just in time to lay the table, put out the ordeurves, call our absent family members, and have a glass of wine before the guests arrived. They were a diverse and enthusiastic group, and together we made merry. Even Sparky joined in the fun.

Of course, not all Thanksgivings are without their mishaps. Most memorable to me was the year that my in-laws and their relatives joined in the festivities. The plates were laid, the food was on the table, and we were about to say thanks when the structure supporting the table came out of place. It was only the strong knees and will of our guests that kept my grandmother’s Limoges china–not to mention the turkey dinner–from falling on the floor. Then again I shouldn’t forget the year I put the turnip skins down the garbage disposal, only to have them erupt some hours later, together with–to my horror–a lot of other extraneous materials.

This year, on Thanksgiving, I believe that we have something to be especially grateful for–the election of Barack Obama for President. In fact, just as in the true meaning of Thanksgiving, doesn’t Obama epitomize, and in many of the same ways, the very best of America? As they say at the end of services in the Episcopalian Church, “Thanks be to God!.”

On Technorati: Aubrey Davis, Celtic Christmas Concert, Dylan Thomas, lore, myth, Obama, Thanksgiving, tradition