Happy Turkey Day, Nerds
This may seem peculiar, but I would ask you to indulge me, dear reader.
It’s that time of year once again, where we say thanks for this and thanks for that, but I want to ask a question: is the sole point of Thanksgiving to be thankful, or is there something more here?
Something that we are missing, perhaps?
Or perhaps we are omitting said ‘thing’ on purpose.
Maybe by accident?
Dear reader, there is a point to this philosophical dialogue, I promise, but allow me to recall a conversation I had quite recently:
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“So how come we eat turkey on Thanksgiving?” Benny heaved open the oven, steam wafting into his face. He waved his mitted hands in front of him, coughing. “Damn.”
Ah, I love the smell of burnt poultry.
Just kidding. He’s a great cook. Smelled delicious.
“Bro, you legit asked the same question last year.” I pulled out a chair from the circular table that stood right across from the kitchen and sat down. “And the year before that, and the year before that‒”
“Aight, I get it.” He chuckled as he stepped away from the oven, setting his forearms on the granite-topped counter that divided the kitchen and dining room. “You never give me an actual answer, though.”
“That’s ’cause you’re a dumbass.” I shrugged as I pulled another chair out with my feet. “Also, I have no idea. Ask lord Google.”
He rolled his eyes at me before turning his attention back to the cooking turkey. He closed the oven, then started pacing up and down the ‘C’ shaped isle in between the kitchen counters.
“Looking for something?” I inclined my head.
“Yea dude.”
“Well you gonna tell me what?”
“The carving knife.” He started opening and closing drawers. Utensils and dishes clattered around each time he shut a drawer. “Have you used it recently?”
“Oh, yea. Totally.” I kicked up my feet on the second chair I pulled out. “The waffles I ate for breakfast this morning looked at me funny, so I stabbed them silly with the carving knife.”
“You’re actually infuriating, Alen.” He clenched his fists at me, then commenced searching through the cabinets. “Can you just help me out?”
“Are you kidding?” I guffawed, slapping the tabletop. “I’m thoroughly enjoying you pat down the kitchen like airport security‒”
“I’m gonna stop you right there.” He held his hand out at me in a ‘stop sign’ fashion.
I raised an eyebrow (very high up, I might add) and he tilted his head in response. I glanced at his hand, then back at him. He got the message and looked at his hand.
The mit was still on.
“You know…” I suppressed a laugh. “That hand would be far more intimidating if you added a puffy red clown nose to the thumb’s tip.”
“I will eat your face.” He snapped his arm back down.
“If I recall correctly.” I pointed at the oven. “You put the knife in with the turkey last year. Perhaps you did it again?”
“Crap.” His eyes widened. “I think you’re right.”
He spun around, but since he was wearing socks without any shoes, he spun a bit too much on the tiled floor. As he slipped, he snatched the oven’s handle to stop the spin, adjusted himself, then opened the oven back up.
“Well?” I leaned up to try and get in view of the cooking bird. “What is your verdict, detective?”
He slid the metal shelf out and cringed as he checked. “Oh, it’s in there. Tucked away on the side though, outside of the turkey bag.”
“Well that’s good.” I slumped back down. “By the way, is your mom really gonna make us do that thing where we go around the table saying what we’re thankful for?”
“Probably.” He slid the shelf back in and closed the oven. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just so sick of it.” I sighed. “I mean, what I’m thankful for is quite obvious. Same goes for everyone else. We literally regurgitate the information like its a test.”
“Yea, but it’s tradition.”
“True, but still.”
“Whatchu mean, ‘but still?’”
“I know it sounds a bit cold.” I took my feet of the cushioned chair and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “But maybe it’s time to really dig into gratitude.”
“There’s a reason I went pre-med in undergrad and not philosophy.” He took his mitts off and set them on the counter right next to the oven. “You’re going to give me a headache.”
“Nah, I’m serious, man.”
“Aight.” He ambled over to the chair I had pulled out for my feet and sat down. “Hit me with it, Socrates.”
“Obviously, people are gonna be thankful for the same things every year.” I started gesturing with my hands. “You know: mom, dad, family, dog, job, whatever.”
“Yea, yea.” He nodded.
“But shouldn’t there be something more than that?” I clicked my tongue. “And I’m not talking ‘I thank God that I woke up this morning,’ I’m talking something a bit more…”
“A bit more what?”
“Different?” I scratched my head. “No, that’s the wrong word. Unconventional, maybe?”
“I’m lost.”
“What’re you thankful for, other than what you’re already thankful for.”
“Now I’m really lost.”
“Ok.” I groaned. “Gratitude is something we see everyday, which is why this holiday seems so redundant. But riddle me this: maybe we should be focusing on being thankful for something other than things that influence us. Maybe we should be focusing on why we’re thankful for what we’re thankful for. I don’t know. I’m just brainstorming here.”
“Yea.” He leaned back. “And it hurts.”
“Dude, I’m just trying to de-monotonize the usual ‘tradition’ of Thanksgiving.” I rubbed my head. “I’m just sick of hearing the same things over and over again.”
“Well what’s wrong with having gratitude for the same things every year?”
I folded my arms and stared at him. “That’s a good question.”
“I mean, sure, it might be boring.” He crossed his legs and cleared his throat. “But it’s the truth. Gratitude doesn’t have to be dynamic to be real.”
“Ha!” (I will not lie to you, reader. My voice went up quite a few octaves upon that exclamation). “That’s the most intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Shut up, asshat.”
“No, I’m serious.” I chuckled. “You make a good point.”
“That you’re an asshat?”
“No ‒ the thing about gratitude not having to be dynamic.”
We sat in silence for a couple minutes, taking in the smell of the turkey.
I’ll be honest: I did not expect this next statement to come out of his mouth.
“Do you think people would forget to have gratitude if they weren’t forced to remind themselves of what they’re thankful for every year?”
“Yes.” I sighed. “My cynicism is going to get the better of me here.”
“How come?”
“Because we’re not programed to be thankful.” I shook my head. “We’re programed to survive. And when our survival is threatened, any gratitude we used to have for that threat will be forgotten.”
“This conversation just got really deep.” He jabbed my shoulder. “I didn’t know that’s how you felt.”
“Me neither.” I jabbed him back. “Not until you asked that question.”
“Pre-med ain’t so bad now, eh?” He stood up and walked back into the kitchen.
“Then perhaps the point of Thanksgiving is simply to act as a reminder for humanity.”
“Yea, maybe.” He opened the oven to check on the turkey. “Or maybe it’s just an excuse to get fat and drunk with friends and family. The world may never know.”
The doorbell echoed throughout the apartment.
“I got it.” I stood up and stretched, cracking my back a couple times. “So what are you thankful for?”
“Save it for dinner.” He grinned at me.
“Whatever.” I made my way to the door.
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Now, dear reader, let me recall the questions before my anecdote:
Is there something more here than just being thankful?
Is there something missing?
I’ve pondered much on these questions, but I’ve also pondered on the aforementioned conversation with Benny. From these, I’ve reached a conclusion.
Gratitude is something that some may take for granted, merely based on its plentifulness in our world. Therefore, it is sometimes overlooked. Omitted. Forgotten.
So allow me to tell you, dear reader, what it is I am thankful for (in addition to all the basic things like family, friends, yada yada yada).
I am thankful that all of you are thankful, for your individual gratitude makes the world a better place.
Always remember that.
.
.
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Happy Turkey Day, nerds.