Thanksgiving - honored, not forgotten

I keep hearing people say that Thanksgiving is the "forgotten holiday." I think that in reality, Thanksgiving is the last man standing. Most of our holidays have been mercilessly ravaged by retail and marketing to the point that many people aren't sure why we celebrate them anymore. Poor Christmas got the worst of it. We have Christmas in July bazaars. Decorations hit the shelves in August and find their way onto rooves and lawns sometime just after Halloween. Christmas music haunts our shopping malls for at least 2 full months before Christmas day. And don't even get me started on the millions - make that billions - of Christmas events in December proper.

It seems like all of our holidays are becoming more and more like Christmas. I won't say the entire month of October is all about Halloween, but it's getting there. We carve pumpkins weeks in advance, pick out Halloween costumes in September, and start going to Halloween festivals as soon as humanly possible. Easter is headed in that direction as well. How many crosses do you see in the seasonal section at Target? Zip. But chocolate bunnies, Easter baskets in the shape of Power Rangers, and Peeps? Katie borrow the door. For Heaven's sake. We even have a creepy Easter bunny at the mall that terrifies children infinitely worse than jolly ol' Saint Nick.

But Thanksgiving? Thanksgiving stands alone. It needs no Hallmark commercials, no Wal-Mart catalogs reminding you that it's coming, no constant barraging to remind you to be thankful. It needs no countdown, no reminder that you only have X number of days to grocery shop for your feast, no giant festival in Time Square with a giant lit-up pumpkin to drop onto our heads to announce that Thanksgiving has arrived again. Perhaps that is because we do not celebrate Thanksgiving, we honor it. We quietly and gracefully give thanks in our own special ways. We change our Facebook statuses to tell others why we are thankful. We do turkey crafts after naptime and pick Indian names to put on our head bands. We have feasts with our friends and our co-workers. We follow our own traditions of turkey and dressing, even if your dressing is really, really weird.

I love my family's Thanksgiving traditions and to be honest (even if it is a bit embarrassing), I start looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner in April. It is a given that grace will be said, an entire can of cranberry sauce will likely be thrown into the trash, and the green bean casserole will be the first thing to go. I know that my mother will ask me, "What do you have to have for it to be Thanksgiving?" My answer never changes - candied yams. It's absolute law that you do not trim the tree or string a single Christmas light until the day after Thanksgiving. If you do not listen to John Denver and the Muppets while trimming said tree, well. . . that's grounds for dismal from the family. It is absolute law that you, under no circumstances, are ever to participate in Black Friday.

So hold your head high, Thanksgiving. You have stood the test of time. You do not need anything more than the meaning of your own name to carry on a true American tradition. You are truly a day to be honored and remembered - quietly, respectfully, and cheerfully.

So watch out, Mr. Turkey. You're going down. We've got some traditions to tend to.

Fall and Christmas

I love fall. I love Christmas. But I think I love fall more than christmas and I finally figured out why.

Christmas? It's like your Great Aunt Midge. She calls in August to tell you she's coming for the holidays. You groan and squint your eyes, sick with worry about everything you have to do before she comes. Oh holy night. Clean everything, down to the fresh-air return grate on the a/c. Your menu must be planned, practiced, and perfect. And that door jamb that's got scuffs on it? Might as well drag out the paint and rollers - that must be tidied before she arrives. Don't forget the lawn. Pristine, down to the glitter-embossed reindeer. Leaves raked. Driveway blown. Perfect. And don't even get me started on the gifts... What do you give her? How much should you spend? You know she's going to judge you when she opens it. Your gift selection says everything about you, you know. Stress, stress, stress. Money, money, money... I'm exhausted just thinking about it! And if that's not enough, she pollutes your life with reminders for 4 months before she finally shows up on your doorstep, white gloves and all. Songs, commercials, texts, and emails. Everywhere you look, you see her beady eyes inspecting every preparation you make for her impending arrival. When she finally gets here and the inspection is over, you really are so glad she came. You enjoy her visit for three days and then you're just as glad to see her go.

But fall? Oh fall. Fall is my cousin Kelly who lives in California. She writes movie scripts and goes camping for vacation. She joined the Peace Corp, but now she's just a Calofornia granola cruncher who grows sprouts in her window sill and once made her own pants from wheat she harvested with her bare hands. I haven't seen her since ... Huh. I can't remember the last time I saw her, but one day I open my front door to go check the mail and there she is, standing on my doorstep with her arms open wide. Oh what a reunion! We hug and laugh and cry and the kids are giddy with delight. Aunt Kelly always convinces me to let them stay up late watching rated R movies and they somehow always manage to get chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast when she's here (even if they are vegan...). I can't recall what day she got here, but I never want to see her go. We reminisce and drink pumpkin lattes and run outside until our throats are raw with the chill air. We play in the leaves and fly kites and make s'mores and laugh and laugh and laugh. One morning, I wake up to find a little note announcing her departure and a package she left for the kids. Frost is on the ground and I can smell winter on the air.

Unlike Christmas, fall arrives with no pomp, no preamble, no preparation. You're stuck standing in your closet when the cool air arrives, at a loss for which jeans actually fit. You hail a silent "suh-weet!" when you drive through the local bagel shop and notice that pumpkin has returned to the menu. Fall is simple and unadorned. And as much as you rejoice at its arrival, there's no countdown and no long list of to-dos to complete before she plops herself on your front porch and stays for a spell. And as much as you lament her departure, there's always the memories you made and the promise of more fun to come.

So welcome, fall. We sure are glad to see you. Won't you stay for dinner?