Grateful for Thanksgiving

I’ve always liked Thanksgiving- a celebration supposedly to honor English refugees. There’re no gifts to give, no cards to send, all you do is eat. I’m not sure how this pays homage to the pilgrims. Maybe we just like rubbing their starving faces in all our gluttony. The holiday is also a day we’re supposed to express gratitude and thanks. I don’t know when that actually happens. I doubt if many even think about it. So, I want to express my gratitude for all who read the Michael Park Bark by sharing some holiday thoughts.

The following quote is from Mark Twain. I don’t know when he said or wrote this but it does sound sort of Twainie. I always pictured Mark Twain to sound like Andy Rooney on 60 minutes.

“Thanksgiving Day, a function which originated in New England two or three centuries ago when those people recognized that they really had something to be thankful for -- annually, not oftener -- if they had succeeded in exterminating their neighbors, the Indians, during the previous twelve months instead of getting exterminated by their neighbors, the Indians. Thanksgiving Day became a habit, for the reason that in the course of time, as the years drifted on, it was perceived that the exterminating had ceased to be mutual and was all on the white man's side, consequently on the Lord's side; hence it was proper to thank the Lord for it and extend the usual annual compliments.”

The following is not from Mark Twain. I know this because it mentions frozen turkeys. The only frozen turkeys in Mr. Twain’s day were ones that were left outside during harsh winters.

Then there's the time a lady was picking through the frozen turkeys at the grocery store, but couldn't find one big enough for her family. She asked a stock boy, "Do these turkeys get any bigger?" The stock boy replied, "No ma'am, they're dead."

Lastly, I wanted to pay homage to the glories of Thanksgiving so I’ve written a little poem that will help to remember what this holiday is all about.

Thanksgiving Dinner

The food is on the table,

most is smellin’ really good

but the turkey seems unstable,

it’s not looking as it should.

I turn to my old grammy

and ask her “what’s with this?”

She couldn’t stand to whammy

A bird she liked to kiss.

If the bird had not been plated

I wondered what was that?

My hunger was deflated;

‘cause the turkey was the cat.

I said “I don’t eat felines

that used to mew and purr”

Grammy said “it’s great with Heinz,

don’t choke upon the fur.”

I started with the tail,

the thought had made me sicken;

but Grammy made a sale

‘cause the cat tastes just like chicken.

So Thanksgiving wasn’t wasted,

The cat I didn’t pity.

T’was the best I’d ever tasted,

Here kitty, kitty, kitty!

Have a great Thanksgiving!