Of all the major American holidays, Thanksgiving is undoubtedly my least favorite.
It falls far behind Christmas, the “most wonderful time of the year” in my book, the decorations, music and family traditions work together to create an atmosphere of joy.
Thanksgiving lacks the spectacle and mystery of Halloween, the fresh start of New Year’s Day, and despite Joe’s claim, no holiday better captures the enterprising spirit of America than the Fourth of July.
I’ve joked that Thanksgiving is all the bad parts of Christmas with none of the good. I endure traffic to spend time with my family and don’t even get a present at the end. (Emphasis on the word “joked.” I love my family, and don’t expect commercial compensation for their company.)
I’ll admit in the long-standing animosity between Thanksgiving and me, most of the blame falls to me. I am a picky eater, and casseroles and green vegetables make me want to hold my nose. I spend the day alternating between feeling nauseous and feeling guilty for not appreciating my relatives’ hard work in the kitchen.
I also confess, at the risk of excommunication from the South, I have no interest in football. Watching Macy’s parade Broadway performances in the other room while my family shouts at the TV isn’t my idea of quality time.
Joe says Christmas shopping fills him with anxiety and violent tendencies. I would suggest online shopping, homemade gifts or finishing your holiday gift buying early (like I have).
For those who enjoy turkey and tossing the pigskin, I sincerely wish you a happy holiday. But I will be counting down the hours until I can put up a tree and put on some Nat King Cole.