A people’s history of thanks

Published 3:46 pm Tuesday, November 18, 2008

My family at Thanksgiving has a tradition of holding hands in a circle and naming what we’re thankful for. When my son was little, he’d be thankful for some new toy or game, but occasionally he’d drift into a cloud of child wisdom and say, “I’m thankful for dirt.” Or algae. Or that all the dinosaurs are dead.

My husband wears a black arm band at Thanksgiving. It’s in honor of the Pequot, Narragansett, and Wampanoag Indians, who may have helped the Puritans through the “starving time” of the winter of 1610 but who were killed by the thousands in subsequent wars and driven from their lands. The governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, John Winthrop, believed that Native Americans did not have “civil right” to the land because they had not “subdued” it.

Though the holiday may be based on a re-writing of history, I love Thanksgiving for its feast, its plenty, and because gratitude seems deeply necessary. This is my thanks-giving.

I am thankful for wild places that have not been subdued.

This year, I’m thankful for the fall colors of the deciduous trees. Last weekend, traveling through Georgia, I couldn’t hush for gasping at brilliant yellow, red, and bronze autumn leaves. “This is better than New England,” I crowed

Finally my husband asked to borrow my sunglasses. He put them on and was quiet a moment.

“Spectacular,” he said.

But I’m here to tell you that even without tinted shades, fall has been incredible.

I’m thankful for the 1,000-year-old cypress in the river swamp at Moody Forest, and that I know how to find it. I’m thankful that I’ve never been lost back in there.

I’m thankful we had a good garden this year, and that somebody, one late November day, invented fried green tomatoes. I’m thankful for raw milk. I’m thankful that if all the supermarkets closed tomorrow, we could still eat for a few days. We could have butternut squash and collards and roasted pecans for Thanksgiving.

I’m thankful for so many great friends and for family. I’m thankful my son, now 20, likes me again, and that he seems to be passing his college classes.

I’m thankful I can still run two miles a day and that my husband hasn’t caught me using his reading glasses.

I’m thankful that I don’t have money in the stock market. I’m thankful for a new president. I’m thankful American automakers are going green.

I’m thankful the weasels and coyotes left us two turkeys.



Janisse Ray is the editor of Moody Forest, a collection of local stories available through parkthedozers@yahoo.com.