Michael's Corner

Because “American” is not an ethnicity, and “America” is essentially a patchwork quilt, she’s a nation devoid of a definable culture or a cultural aspect not mutually exclusive to market inventions. But that doesn’t preclude her from having an ethos, a vibe, or an atmosphere. For example, football, autumn, and Thanksgiving, on their own merits, can go a long way in crafting what one might describe as aspects uniquely American.

Moreover, the collaboration of a sport, a season, and a holiday, offers a sense of home and hearth that makes us Americans feel warm and fuzzy. And yes, the last Thursday in November may lack sophistication; no one would dare act so pretentious as to attach the term “cuisine” to an autumnal holiday featuring fowl and football. But whether or not one’s menu is a tour de force in the gastronomical arts, the food is much more about teamwork in the kitchen and participation than the meal’s artistry. Then, once Thanksgiving feasts are brought to the table, family’s dust off their scripts and everyone begins reading their lines. Invariably, a new story will find its way into the repertoire to ensure that the family lore doesn’t grow too stale. And never does a year pass without someone remarking (as everyone reaches to loosen their belts) that the food took hours to prepare but only minutes to devour. It’s usually Grandma or Aunt Elizabeth who echoes the sentiment, and their incredulous tenor resonates as though quick-vanishing food was as anomalous as a bipartisan bill.

Lately, a newcomer has found their way to countless Thanksgiving tables. Many know the newcomer as the collegiate who has had their brain hijacked by a leftist professor and now, they can’t wait to enlighten their captive audience that “giving thanks” while living in an “evil, racist country that seeks to oppress at every turn” is farcical to the point of an abomination. At every Thanksgiving table, where sits a returned parodical son or daughter, those who only came to satisfy their watering mouths and spend one last holiday with grandma, must endure over rehearsed, regurgitated bullshit made to resonate like original thought. You might want to stick a pin in their soliloquy by telling the young idealist majoring in a field that won’t earn them a living: “Hey, you can venture off into the world, undertaking the doughty mission of correcting for history if it pleases you. Meanwhile, my turkey is getting cold!”

You also might want to remind the academic newbie that if they truly feel that their life is based on unearned privilege, rest assured there is a solution. They can give up their slot, enroll in a community college, or enroll in a trade school. You’ll find that these newcomers are quite generous when the matter is others surrendering privileges, but they’re not too keen on the idea when they’re the ones asked to do the forfeiting. And when they yammer on about how “we,” without specifying who “we” is, stole land from native Americans and should give it back, it’s never their land, property, and privileges subject for requisitioning. Nevertheless, tell them you’ll be so impressed should they follow through in undoing their “undeserved privileges” that you’ll quit your job and join a monastery. Trust me, it’ll tighten up their program in a skinny minute!

Hopefully, you won’t have to endure one of these “newcomers.” But if you do, I hope your turkey is warm, your stuffing flavorful, your corn tender, grandma’s pumpkin pie causes you to swoon, and your football team ends up on the right side of the score. Moreover, if you are the fresh-out-of-academia newcomer, bear in mind that your relatives are just as lost in the madding world as everyone else, so spare them the pedagogy and be thankful you have a family with whom to break bread. Happy Thanksgiving, and happy food coma.