Post-Halloween there are two groups of Americans: those who put up construction paper leaves and turkeys and dream of cranberries and gravy, and those who fast forward to Christmas. I am of the former camp. Ritual togetherness in our family happened on Thanksgiving, not Christmas. I’m also never too eager to bypass autumn for bare twigs, especially now as the maritime autumn is a long, splendid affair.



Like Columbus Day, Thanksgiving has a dubious history founded on exploitation of indigenous peoples. In these enlightened times I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised that in some camps it’s falling out of favor. One of the women I worked with last year was actually fasting that Thursday to commemorate the suffering we had inflicted on the people. And I understand that sentiment. For me personally it feels just a bit severe, and it also made me sad that she was denying herself potential fellowship. The year before the Thanksgiving meal was about the only big meal I’d had in months, the first time I’d felt full since I couldn’t remember when. And it was certainly the only meal I’d had all year surrounded by so much laughter, so many friends and family.



There are so few holidays we Americans have left that focus not on commericalism but on simple things like making things and being together. I know there’s the consumer part -- the feasting -- but what good self respecting holiday isn’t about feasting? When more people that usual come together one can expand the usual fare, one can justify killing the fattened calf (or in this case, buying a large piece of meat, or making a stunning savory pie.)



In this difficult economic period stores and economists are keener than ever to push Christmas shopping season sooner. I worked retail in college and recall decorating a Christmas tree on Halloween night, which appalled me. Now as soon as October 1st non-craft stores are getting the tinsel and do-dads out. It’s hard to remain present and focused with so much external suggestion pushing you forward and into the future before you’re good and ready. There are no Thanksgiving songs, that I know of, no Thanksgiving stories other than the becoming-taboo pilgrim thing. We need more autumnal folklore. Stories about putting up the harvest and then celebrating with a feast. We need Ben Franklin to tell us all about turkeys and what he thought was so important about them. Stories about watching the leaves dance in the wind.



For myself, besides desperately wishing I had several months for those projects, I’ve recently turned to old radio plays broadcast around Thanksgiving. Something to keep me grounded while I clean houses and draw all day. They aren’t the greatest stories, nor the highest quality (unsurprisingly, my Christmas recordings are much cleaner sounding), but they’re a start. It’s nice to hear that even back in the 1940s Christmas was intruding on Thanksgiving’s territory. Stories about the whole family coming to the farmhouse interspersed with reminders that Elgin watches are really the best gift for any Christmas stocking. No escaping the sales people I suppose. If you cook of course, Thanksgiving will always be an important holiday. The other item in my audio arsenal is every Splendid Table podcast I have from past Novembers. These aural suggestions, and this handsome paper turkey I whipped together last night, help the season remain, help the season be celebrated. It all helps time stop slipping so quickly out from under my feet.

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