I’m thinking the closest I will get to a meal of Thanksgiving poultry might be a Swiss Chalet chicken dinner. Whoopee!
No pity party here, though. While I would otherwise be traveling to see my Mom (that will be next weekend instead) I am going to a Toronto Symphony concert on Saturday, as they continue their Beethoven & Mahler Festival, then playing a small part in a Thanksgiving service at Trinity St. Paul’s United Church. (With others, presenting tokens of thanksgiving, I plan on displaying a day’s worth of pills, which have kept me alive beyond expectations, and ask the rhetorical question, “What makes me more worthy of these medications than anyone else in the world?” The correct answer: NOTHING!)
Thanksgiving…that American import, Pilgrim-era festival mythologized as a friendly early meeting of aboriginals and Europeans…commemorated by filling fat birds with more fattening stuffing, accompanied by gravy-saturated creamed potatoes. A split-screen TV idea…re-enact the first Thanksgiving, in one panel, and show more-obese-than-ever people today climbing down (gravity is on their side) out of their SUVs in the other.