Thanksgiving – Lost in translation
“You stuff what inside the bottom of a turkey?" my friend asked. She was quite serious.
"Stuffing,” I said again.
She laughed.
It all began when our friends from South Africa flew to the U.S. for a conference the week of Thanksgiving. Picking them up at the airport, we couldn’t be more excited that they would be experiencing the U.S. and Thanksgiving for the very first time. I quickly discovered that Thanksgiving, a nostalgic holiday that makes perfect sense to Americans, seems like a bizarre ride on the crazy train to much of the rest of the world.
It had never occurred to me that, unlike Christmas or Easter, the rest of the world really has no ties to the American holiday of Thanksgiving. Not only do they not celebrate it, but they also don’t really understand it either.
"The airport isn't always this crowded," I assured them. “Thanksgiving week is the most heavily traveled time of the year in the States.”
“Are Americans all traveling to express gratitude in a place of worship?" my friend asked.
“No, they’re traveling to a place with turkey,” I answered. “They travel once a year to eat a giant meal with their friends and family and give thanks that they don’t live closer together.”
“Why turkey?"
“Well, it's the traditional centerpiece of our holiday meal,” I explained. “One lucky turkey receives an official pardon from the President. The rest risk having their heads cut heads off, feathers plucked, guts pulled out, and bottoms stuffed full of bread.”
"That sounds awful,” she said, horrified. “Then what?”
“We cook the bird. Traditionally we baked it in our oven, but this year my husband is opting to light a garbage can full of oil on fire in our driveway and dunk the bird in it instead.”
“Americans are often willing to risk life and limb in pursuing the perfectly cooked turkey.” Case in point: my Uncle Ted still has no eyebrows from his last year’s attempt at deep frying his turkey.
“If you don’t like a plain old turkey, some people mix it up and order a Turducken. It’s a deboned chicken stuffed into a deboned duck and a deboned Turkey.”
“That doesn't sound very appealing,” she winced.
“Well, no worries, there are many other things to eat,” I offered. “Americans are fond of gourds, especially pumpkins, this time of year. We infuse our coffee with their scent. We mash them into casseroles with enormous amounts of butter, sugar, nuts, and marshmallows, which we deliberately burn before serving. We even blend them into pies”. I continued.
My friend’s raised eyebrows suggested she was less than impressed by the holiday of Thanksgiving.
“It’s really one of my very favorite holidays,” I assured her.
I was tempted to go on discussing my love for The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, where commentators give play-by-plays on the movement of enormous crazy balloons, the kids' tradition of tracing paper turkey hands, or watching football for hours until my family eventually becomes so inspired that we waddle onto the front lawn and recreate the game with everyone including grandma. Or how those of us that survive the football go on to compete the next day at the mall in what can only be described as a deathmatch for the deals.
But I realized I can't explain most of it and sound sane. I can't explain why my family loves space-age cranberry sauce that maintains its shape even after being poured from the can or that at least three boxes of cereal mixed with Worcestershire sauce is a must.
I can't explain our obsession with shaping appetizers into balls.... sausage balls, meatballs, and cheese balls.
Or why our dining room table is beautifully set but then connected with a train of wobbly card tables extending into our coat closet.
Or just try explaining why kids enjoy fighting over who gets the bigger side of a bone of the dead turkey carcass.
I thought about explaining all this to my foreign friend, but I decided not to – I knew she would never understand.
To the rest of the world, I guess it really appears that Americans have lost their minds on Thanksgiving, but for those of us that grew up in the United States, we don't really care what the rest of the world thinks. We wait all year for that special day with family and friends where, once again, we repeat these unexplainable, bizarre, and nearly certifiable traditions.
Maybe we can’t explain it because it's not really about the traditions themselves. Maybe it's more about the way it makes us feel; grateful. Maybe, just for one day a year, it reminds us of a time when the world was not nearly as uncertain and politically correct as the one we live in today. Maybe the freedom to celebrate in any way we choose reminds us how blessed we are as individuals and as a nation. I can't explain American Thanksgiving to the rest of the world. I only know I love it – every crazy, wonderful, and certifiable part.
Edited by Rebekah Crozier
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thanksgiving_Day_Turkey_Float.jpg