Thanksgiving is the best holiday of the year. Here are 10 reasons why.
First, it is the right length -- a three-day celebration. I count the three days of the holiday as Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Sunday and Wednesday, the days devoted to holiday travel, are bummers, so I toss them out.
The big problem with other holidays is that they last too long. For example, we may start off the Christmas season all cheery and bright, but after weeks of shopping, we begin considering tying folks to the Christmas tree and having a big bonfire.
Thanksgiving avoids this problem. You can get along with anybody for three days, even most of your relatives. Besides, if you should have trouble mixing with the kinfolk, you can always run to work on Friday and blame your boss. Thanksgiving has a built-in pressure-relief day.
Second, during the Thanksgiving proceedings the kitchen table gets the respect it deserves. I believe most of life's significant events either happen at the kitchen table or are discussed there. This is especially true during this holiday season. The table is where potatoes are peeled, coffee consumed, leftovers eaten, and stories told. The heavy-duty holiday work may be done at the sink and stove, but the kitchen table provides crucial entertainment.
Third, Thanksgiving is a full-employment holiday. There is enough work for everyone, regardless of skill. If you don't cook, you can fetch forgotten ingredients. Or you can take the little kids for long walks. Or wash dishes. About the only way to be left out of the proceedings is to hide in the basement.
Fourth, at Thanksgiving we do something our moms have been trying to get us to do for years: We get passionate about vegetables. People who normally don't give a hoot about vegetables suddenly become adamant that certain vegetables -- creamed onions, for instance, or, in my case, hominy -- appear on the Thanksgiving table. The turkey may get the media attention, but it is these vegetable side dishes, these "gotta haves," that inspire loyalty among the masses.
Fifth, Thanksgiving is the only major holiday where jelly has to be served at the main meal. I am talking about cranberry jelly, that dark red stuff that jiggles as it sits on the table. Like a lot of families, ours has tried out fancier versions of the berry. The all-powerful committee of cooks -- my mother, my wife and my sister-in-law -- will soon rule, for example, on whether last year's garlicky cranberry chutney will merit a reappearance this year. But there will be no question about the appearance of the jiggling jelly. It is a fixture.
