Every year my family gathers for a great celebration of ...well, i haven't figured out what yet.
Anyways, all the "adults" get drunk and sit, drooling, around the carcass of a poor, slow, defenseless turkey and all the trimmings. This gruesome meal is complete with stuffing(who wants to eat something that has been STUFFED inside the dead bird?), cranberry sauce(the most tame dish, by far), green bean casserole(the one thing I enjoy), and even a fat, tender ham(pssh). After the family is stuffed to the limit it is time to discuss with the youngin's why exactly we are eating all this food while hundreds of thousands of people in Africa will die tonight, this same night we sleep peacefully in our warm beds.
"It's to celebrate the coming together of two very different cultures!" Grandfather declares in a large, robust voice that only a grandfather could have.
"OH! I know!" exclaims Little Brother, "The pilgrims and the indians!" How young and naive he is.
Little Sister chimes in, "The pilgrims helped the indians find food and they celebrated and had a great feast." Her eyes glow as she pictures pilgrims in their silly hats and black and white attire, and the indian princesses with beauty that cannot be described with mere words.
"That's right." says Stepfather, filled with the pride of having children with such good schooling that they know these things already, not even being in middle school yet.
I sit, leaning in my chair, trying hard not to upset anyone on this joyous day. I bite my tongue as I hear the "adults" feed into the childrens horribly incorrect portrayal of this fateful day in American History.
Littler Sister, fearing that she may be left out, begins to weave her own tale of the happy, happy day, "First, the pilgrims brought the tables and chairs to eat on, and then they cooked all the food that the indians had gathered and all the turkeys and deer they had gotten...To make it taste good." Of course, because Native Americans were gatherers, scavengers even, but not hunters. Oh no, certainly not, that's unheard of.
Grandfather's girlfriend(?!) sees me looking on in dissapproval. "What's wrong Mary? Don't you like Thanksgiving?" How do I explain this without causing complete and utter mayhem in the house? How do I let this out to my very opionionated Grandfather and Mother?
"Well," I begin, "It's just that..." I look this way and that trying to put into words what I am thinking. I know the atmosphere that follows my few words will be far from happy. I can't escape this now, though. Everyone is staring at me, hanging on my every word, waiting to see what is bothering me so while they enjoy a glorious day.
"You guys are wrong, " I say, looking down to avoid the befuddled looks of my relatives. They want to know what I am talking about, so I continue. "The pilgrims didn't help the indians find food, they didn't really help them with anything...ever."
"NUH UH!" Little Brother says, taken aback that I could tarnish the name of those who helped form our great country.
"SHHHH!" everyone turns and shushes him. He slides down in his chair afraid of being further chastized.
"What do you mean?" Says Grandfather, he's got that look in his eyes, the look he gets when he KNOWS someone is wrong, but still wants to see what they have to say so he can use it against them in further arguments. I can see it know "And YOU thought the pilgrims never helped the indians!"
"The pilgrims actually didn't help with Thanksgiving at all. They were hungry and the Native Americans were kind enough to give them food, so they took advantage of it." Everyone staring at me is making me so nervous that I don't want to go on. Even though i have known most of these people since I was born I have no idea how they will react to this. "They ate as much of the Native Americans food and they could put into their mouths and then murdered the whole village while they slept. It was actually really, really disgusting and horribly inhumane."
Grandfather looks as though he might explode, Mother stares blankly, wondering how I could ruin a beautiful family gathering, and the chidren are enthralled, they want to know more. Now I am getting into it. I want to tell them all what happened, I want to expose this day for what it really is.
"And did you know, that the Native Americans didn't start the whole scalping thing? No, that was one of the things that the British, or pilgrims, brought with them, and they got it form the Spanish. The Native Americans just mimicked what they saw the enemy doing. Because after all that's what there were..Enemies." I realize that i shouldn't have said thins as soon as the last word leaves my mouth.
Mother looks at me in awe. "Mary..."
"Don't worry Mother, I'm finished." I say as I rise to leave. "But, just one last thing. Let's all give thanks for the pilgrims. Imean, look how happy the indians are now."
Yes, and what a glorious day it was. I can't wait for Christmas, where we can eat even more slaughtered animals, and rejoice under the false pretense that God loves us and someone was willing to die for a race that appreciates none of what it has and is only interested in material items.
At least I can look forward to seeing my family, that’s always fun. Oh, wait, no. how could I forget? I’m the outcast of the family, the outspoken one whom no one takes seriously because only pure rubbish escapes from behind these lips. They tell me I get it from my father, the one who strayed from the beaten path to become an artist while all his brothers became “real” working men, who wear suits and look forward to going to work everyday to sit in their tiny cubicles and answer their phones and take their lunch breaks.
On a happier note, look at this funny thing. I normally don't like quizzes but this one intrigued me.
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<br /><a href="http://www.quizgalaxy.com/quiz.php?id=41">Take this quiz</a> at <a href="http://www.quizgalaxy.com">QuizGalaxy.com</a></td></table></center>