When I was a child, Christmas was by far my favorite holiday, for all kinds of reasons — the presents, the tree, almost every house in the neighborhood suddenly strung with lights. Now, seeing the holiday season from the other side of the parenting coin, Thanksgiving seems like Christmas stripped down to the latter’s most essential and enjoyable parts — good food, a quick prayer, and family too long unseen around a table — and missing the parts of our overly commercialized Christmas that I can easily do without: the challenge of finding the right gift, the crush of shoppers, strings of lights emerging from the closet in a Gordian knot, and one too many choruses of “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.”
As Thanksgiving 2008 arrives, we have much to be grateful for. If you’re on the other side of the aisle, you’re thankful for Election Day victories — Al Franken, for one, is thrilled about the latest batch of “missing” votes found under some seat cushions. But if you’re disappointed by the election , the four-day weekend and its traditions are a soothing reminder that — despite a year being inundated with Orwellian images of a stylized face and empty slogan, and reiterated pledges that “we will change this country” — some parts of American life are gloriously impervious to change. The best parts of life are timeless, and beyond the reach even of the rapacious hand of the most ambitious politician.
For millions of households across the nation, Thanksgiving morning means tuning in to the Macy’s parade. It will feature hammy song-and-dance numbers from Broadway shows you may never see. The floats will pass a bit too quickly, and the syrupy slow songs will go on too long. But the balloons will still bob down Central Park West and Broadway — safely, we hope. Alas, this year’s lineup glaringly omits the Charlie Brown and Snoopy balloons — but Kermit the Frog and Ronald McDonald managed to make the cut. And the windswept procession will end once again with Santa Claus, launching the official start to the Christmas season — despite the fact that many stores will have had their decorations up for some time.
For some high schools — particularly within the original 13 colonies, understandably — this is the day of the season-ending football rivalry. In Connecticut, Norwich Free Academy will face New London High School for the 147th time. Boston Latin will square off against Boston English. And Xavier will make the trip up to the Bronx to battle Fordham Prep. Some traditions do end or adapt: last year, Metuchen High School stopped its once seemingly automatic loss to Highland Park in their annual Thanksgiving match-up. Alumni squeezed into old varsity jackets will fill the stands and run into faces not seen in a long time.
By midday, the first round of relatives will start showing up at your door. From California to Maine, families will begin the complicated logistics of who parks where, and who will box in whom in the driveway. Does this need to be put in the oven? Is there room for this in the fridge? Have you basted recently? Has anyone seen the gravy boat?
Down the hall from the kitchen, Americans across the country will check in to Detroit to see if its NFL team has gotten any better. The early afternoon game of the Lions against the Team That Isn’t the Lions has had little meaning or playoff implications — at least since Barry Sanders retired. But that means football fans are able to watch objectively, just to appreciate the game as it is played — and there’s a good chance that a player you’ve never heard of will have an unexpectedly good day, claiming a Turkey-related award from a network color commentator. A few hours later — having established that, no, Detroit has not gotten any better — football fans will bid farewell to the Motor City for another year.
Later in the day, Dallas plays Not Dallas in a game that often matters — but by that time, America’s Team is competing with America’s Feast. Those who care about the game’s outcome will drop utensils conspicuously in order to dart into the den and check the score before returning to the table with their third or fourth clean fork.
By early evening at my house, my father-in-law will offer to continue our bizarre tradition of a shot of Thanksgiving tequila. There will be toasts, laughter, prayers.
You can probably guess the topics of conversation and points of contention around your table already, as every family has its hardy perennials. If you’re reading this site, you might be discussing the election. In my case, I’ll rejoin my efforts to trigger a reenactment of the Titanic brawl of a few years’ back over whether Philadelphia is a dead city.
Around some tables, there may be newly empty chairs. We’ve heard a lot over the past year about “real change,” but that term looks silly when applied to shifts in government policy — because, in our personal lives, the turning points that mark real change hit harder and much closer to home. There were the years we had those loved ones close, and then the time abruptly begins when they aren’t with us: distant, but sensed in another, better place.
Changes in life aren’t just departures, of course. New husbands and wives arrive, new friends and neighbors gather around the table. This will be my son’s second Thanksgiving — but last year hardly counts. He’s more mobile today, and sleeps far less. So to my mind, this will be his first real Thanksgiving — interacting with everyone and babbling merrily. Enjoying a new addition to the family is a real change, too — the best kind.
At the end of the meal, there will be the temptation to unbuckle the belt. There will be a third football game for those who can’t get enough — but for most, there will be more conversation, as the more-distant visitors return home. Thoughts will bend forward to Black Friday, Christmas wish lists, and whether one should venture to the mall — or just buy everything online this year.
I’ve celebrated Thanksgiving overseas, and had pigeon when turkey could not be found. I’ve also had turkey in Turkey, carving the bird for an apartment full of American embassy workers — trying to replicate those old-fashioned moments that were sadly unique to our homeland. Those were noble efforts — but not the same as what we all were missing. No place is home but home.
Among the joys of conservatism are its appreciation for tradition and its recognition that the core — and not merely the corners — of our daily life proceeds untouched by the realms of politics and government. Government can tax our paychecks, prick our liberty with a thousand sharp regulations, and keep us at endless lines at the Department of Motor Vehicles. But the rituals of Thanksgiving are beyond the reach of Leviathan and political correctness — at least for now.
Some things don’t change, and thank God for that.
– Jim Geraghty wrote the Campaign Spot blog for NRO.