Without question, my favorite holiday is Thanksgiving. I relish the opportunity to appreciate all the wonderful things about life. I also love that it is simultaneously a holiday all about complaints, criticism and arguments. Every holiday should contain such multitudes. I might be feeling grateful for my blessings while also wishing the gravy had more salt in it. There’s something uniquely American about turning a holiday that’s meant to be a joyous celebration of abundance into a chance to vehemently disagree about something trivial.
Of course, I love arguing about trivial things. In fact, that might be what I’m most grateful for. Thanksgiving traditions are fertile ground for arguments. What to eat and, even more crucially, when to eat. Every year, someone in your life – a family member, friend, know-it-all writer – will tell you they have settled the eternal debate about when to commence Thanksgiving dinner. Some (wrong) people think the word “dinner” should be taken literally, in the American sense. These strict constitutionalists can see no nuance in the holiday traditions and believe (falsely) that the meal should begin between 5pm and 7pm, when it’s properly dark outside.
