“It was, legend says, a typically colorful, probably chilly, November day in 1622 that Pilgrims and Native Americans celebrated the new world’s bounty with a sumptuous feast. They sat together at Plymouth Plantation (they spelled it Plimouth) in Massachusetts, gave thanks for the goodness set before them, then dined on pumpkin pie, sweet potatoes, maize, cranberry sauce, turkey and who knows what else.
Actually, fish was just as predominant a staple. And history books say pumpkin pie really debuted a year later. But regardless of the accuracy of the details, that’s how Thanksgiving Day is seen by Americans — except Detroiters.
They may have most of the same images as everyone else, but with a new twist that began in 1934.
That’s when Detroiters and their outstate Michigan compatriots found themselves at the dawn of an unplanned behavior modification, courtesy of George A. “Dick” Richards, owner of the city’s new entry in the National Football League: The Detroit Lions.
No other team in professional sports can claim to be as much a part of an American holiday as can the Detroit Lions with Thanksgiving. When you think of Thanksgiving you think of football and the Lions.â€
http://www.detroitlions.com/team/history/thanksgiving-day-in-motor-city.html
I’m not exactly a football fan, but growing up with a father and five younger brothers (I know I’m being very sexist here. I am aware there are plenty of female fans), football was, indeed, part of Thanksgiving festivities for me, for many years.
I don’t follow the Lions now. I’m more a Pistons kinda gal, but I do hear that things have not gone well for the Motown football team of late. Here’s a great new parody about Lions fans:
My favorite overall Thanksgiving skit comes from none other than Saturday Night Live, where the great Chris Farley and other fat guys gather around the family table as “Mother†passionately feeds her brood with ecstatic, almost psychotic delight at having “her boys†at home. She’s got the turkey sandwiches on the TV trays only seconds after they finish their meal, as they belch away in front of the tube.
Man, can I relate to that image of women waiting on their men folk. From my grandma to my own mother, my sister, aunts, female cousins…all seemed to somehow revel with joy at spending hours in the kitchen, only to see their efforts scarved down in few noisy moments by men who just wanted to get back to the game.
No wonder I never got married. Hell, I’ve never even baked a pie!
It’s not that I ever consciously said, “Count me out,†but I sure didn’t end up participating. To this day, I’ve not done up a turkey, bought a can of cranberries or hauled out the heirloom tablecloth.
Don’t misunderstand my comments. I’m not bragging about my choices or criticizing the women who enjoy all that. I know many who sincerely value cooking and serving the ones they love, waiting on them, cleaning up afterward, watching everyone being together. I have no problem at all with any of it. I enjoy being part of that scene, as well, when it still presents itself. I’m just not the one wearing the apron.
My personal motto is, “If it ain’t fun why do it?†If some of you mothers and sisters out there really do love that role, in no way do I find it demeaning or silly. I really don’t. And guys, if you want to pitch in and help, in these modern times I doubt anyone would question your “metrosexuality,” so go for it, dude.
Despite my rantings here, I do indeed love Thanksgiving dinner. Hey, someone has to do it otherwise me and my big mouth miss out on some of the great sensual pleasures in life. For that, I thank the cooks and bakers in my world.
I’m not sure where I’ll end up this Thursday; several options exist, aside from a family gathering. Whatever unfolds, I’m sure it will be lovely.
In the end, I wish everyone the very, very best as the day approaches to celebrate this very American tradition with those you love and care for. Enjoy every moment of it…even if the Lions figure out a way to lose another one.
