A Thanksgiving Tradition

Regardless of its murky origins, Thanksgiving has become one of the purest of American traditions. It remains one of the unique holidays that have avoided most of the negative features of exploitation showered on many other American celebrations. Free from the religious and marketing undertone seen in Christmas and Easter, as well as the nationalistic tendencies inherit in Independence Day, Veterans Day, and Memorial Day, Thanksgiving remains a day relegated for family to unite and enjoy a meal while appreciating the good things in life. Despite the seemingly wonderful intentions of Thanksgiving, there is always a percentage of the population removed from the festivities. What if you hate turkey? What if you don't have a family? What if aren't (gasp) American? If you answered yes to any of those questions, then Thanksgiving must be a bitter pill to swallow. It is with these people in mind that I'm looking to start a new Thanksgiving tradition. In the next few paragraphs I hope to detail my new hope for the holiday by relating my own Thanksgiving activities. I believe that only through proper implementation of my own ideas, will it be possible for those outside of the American mainstream to enjoy a day that must have left some people utterly depressed about their place in life.

My own descent into Thanksgiving pariah began two years ago while I was attending university. I was in my third year and due to work, I was unable to return home to enjoy the bounty usually presented before me. Believing that a day with Turkey would not cause too much harm, I dropped my laundry off at a friends apartment, (his mother did the laundry for me, a debt that I still feel some responsibility for) and went home to settle into a normal days routine. As my body began to realize that this Thursday in November might not result in Turkey consumption, I quickly grew weaker and even found myself turning on the "Macy's Thanksgiving Parade" to placate it. Realizing that my day alone at home would not be sufficiently depressing upon retelling the story, I decided to go to the local grocery store and buy some sliced turkey and instant stuffing. As I prepared my feast, I was delighted by the knowledge that my story would generate genuine sympathy and that people would truly believe that I longed for all the trappings of tradition. I finished the day full from my turkey and went to work realizing that I would be surrounded by similar souls who for one reason or another had also been given the honor of being torn from their turkey to work on the holiday.

One year later, I found myself in a similar position due to my work schedule. The delight that last years story had brought me, made me committed to the idea of topping it. Despite this, I also realized that this years tale would mainly be intended for my friends, and therefore planned accordingly. Therefore, I purchased a boneless turkey and even some frozen corn! I also made sure to mention to anyone who asked (or didn't ask) that my girlfriend was off in Japan, and that I was very sad. It is with all these aspects in place that I preceded with the ultimate act of isolation. I must warn you now, what I write next may be difficult to believe. So, it is with great trepidation that I inform everyone that this was the moment that I commenced in viewing the entire Star Wars saga. Close to fourteen hours of non stop science fiction greeted me as I wallowed in the pain of being alone. Everyone who heard this story winced and wondered how I had survived this self-inflicted torture. As I finished my last year of university, I was prepared to cease my new ritual. I did not know then, that I would have at least one more year to prepare for the ultimate act of Thanksgiving solitude.

My year in Japan has been filled with numerous changes that I feared would permanently end my two years of Thanksgiving tradition. My life with Leslie has been good, and I assumed that November 23rd would eventually come and that we would have a pleasant evening in our home. It was at the moment of my greatest doubt that Leslie as if by accident chose to visit some friends in Kyoto on the very day that my custom had begun, only two years ago. Realizing the potential of the gift given to me, I quickly prepared to celebrate my third Thanksgiving alone. Lacking even fundamental food, I chose to eat (an unintentionally even more depressing) spaghetti and meatballs. Looking for some holiday entertainment, I went to the local video store and picked up one of the worst films I have ever seen.

The movie, "Blood Gnome",may be the biggest waste of money ever spent. I'm not sure if it was soft-core pornography, but the amount of nudity within the movie makes a good argument in favor of this theory. The film quality was little better than amateur, and the plot absolutely unwatchable. The story revolved around a character (who looked liked Steven Perry from "Journey") who investigates violent crimes. When creatures begin attacking people, he is the only one with an infrared camera capable of seeing them. The movie continues with brief scenes of Steve and the Gnomes conversing via Instant Messenger, culminating in a violent moment where he kicks one in the crotch. Despite this, the movie made a more than adequate addition to the growing library of bad movies that I have had the pleasure to view in my life.

In conclusion, I would like to help all of those who may have answered "yes" to the questions originally addressed at the beginning of this entry. I hope that my story has served as an inspiration to everyone who fails to fit the narrow interpretation of who can celebrate Thanksgiving. It is with this mind that I urge all to start their own tradition of finding some of the most depressing actions, and doing them in order to generate sympathy. I assure you that it is really enjoyable, and that just the idea of performing tired stereotypes of people who are alone is worth its weight in gold. I look forward to next year with impending delight. I only hope the new custom that I have created will someday supplant the turkey eating common in the U.S. today. Until then, if you need me on Thanksgiving, I will be the broken man soaking the cold turkey sandwich with tears rooted in a loneliness that only comes from abject isolation.