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TIME: Almanac 1990
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1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
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1990-09-19
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ESSAY, Page 94Why We've Failed to Ruin ThanksgivingBy Walter Shapiro
Who really thinks about Thanksgiving? Most adults absorb the
larger meaning of the holiday as part of the first-grade catechism
(Pilgrims, friendly Indians, a day for offering thanks) and rarely
move beyond Care-Bears sentimentality. This built-in ickiness is
a pity, since it tends to overshadow the symbolic significance of
Thanksgiving, that most unrepentantly old-fashioned of American
celebrations, that patriotic heirloom that nobody has figured out
a way to ruin.
For nearly 150 years, ever since a women's magazine called
Godey's Lady's Book began championing the cause of an annual day
of Thanksgiving, the topic has been drowning in a syrupy sea of
treacle. Almost every Thanksgiving cliche was in place by the
mid-19th century: snow-thatched New England farmhouses, menus of
turkey and cranberry sauce, families bowing their heads in grateful
prayer, and wayward children dramatically returning home for the
occasion. Even Abraham Lincoln in ushering in the modern national
Thanksgiving holiday could not rise above what a latter-day
President might call "the banality mode." Just weeks before he
composed the soaring sentences of the Gettysburg Address, Lincoln
began his 1863 Thanksgiving proclamation with this hackneyed
conceit: "The year that is drawing toward its close has been filled
with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies."
Today, of course, healthful skies mask the hole in the ozone
layer. But in a suddenly peaceful world where the doors of the Iron
Curtain have rusted open, no one should ridicule the simple giving
of thanks. Each of us has private reasons for gratitude, since in
so many ways 1989 has been a bountiful year. For me, I am sincere
in my appreciation for the way the greenhouse effect has allowed
Indian summer to stretch on into the college basketball season.
Moreover, I consider it a personal blessing that Jackie Mason was
canceled, Donald Trump failed in his efforts to make his name
synonymous with American Airlines, Ronald Reagan managed to return
from Japan and no trend spotter has successfully named the '90s
before they happen.
Yet Thanksgiving represents more than a litany of good tidings
and an amalgam of turkey-time truisms. There is a stubborn
rectitude to the holiday itself, reminiscent of its stiff-necked
Pilgrim forbearers. More than any other date on the calendar,
Thanksgiving has remained private and personal, devoid of the
tinsel trappings that mar the rest of contemporary life. On this
ecumenical holiday, Americans are allowed to be as prayerful or as
secular as they choose, with no one complaining that they have
somehow taken the thanks out of Thanksgiving.
For all the public prattle about family values, no other
holiday brings generations together without the lure of anything
more tangible than a good dinner. Think of the novelty of an
extended family forced to spend the day doing little other than
talking, eating and digesting. Distractions are gloriously limited:
the malls are closed and the televised sports offerings sparse.
Unlike New Year's Eve, no one feels compelled to have the time of
one's life or broods unduly when reality fails to conform to these
exaggerated expectations. The perfect Thanksgiving is timeless, as
families replicate their own familiar rituals, complete with the
unconscious re-enactment of parental conflicts and sibling
rivalries that may date back to the Eisenhower Administration.
No gastronomical theory can explain the enduring appeal of the
Thanksgiving dinner. The traditional menu is largely a 19th-century
re-creation of Pilgrim and Indian fare, and none of these groups
normally claim membership in the world's great culinary traditions.
But miraculously the meal remains a monument to pre-microwave
American cooking. Not even McDonald's has had the audacity to
create McTurkey, nor does Domino's deliver cranberry pizza. So too
are the food faddists outflanked, as sun-dried tomatoes, imported
chevre and oat-bran anything give way to overstuffed lassitude.
Americans have grown inured to crass commercialism taken to
excess, with corporate sponsorship profaning everything from bowl
games to the Bill of Rights. But somehow Thanksgiving has resisted
the blandishments of an age of avarice. How the greeting-card
sharpies and the flower-power florists must lament a national
holiday in which they are doomed to play such a minor role. For if
one cares to send the very best, one flies home for Thanksgiving.
Even the TV networks have never figured out a way to transform
Thanksgiving into a prime-time pageant, which is why the Macy's
Parade still takes place in God's own morning light.
Politicians are blissfully silent on Thanksgiving. Such
restraint is appropriate for a holiday that commemorates one of the
rare occasions when the white man treated the Indian with dignity
and respect. But public officials may also be chastened by the
experience of Franklin Roosevelt, the only modern President to try
to tamper with Thanksgiving. Back in 1939, Roosevelt touched off
a patriotic uprising when he issued a proclamation unilaterally
shifting Thanksgiving from the then customary last Thursday in
November (the 30th) to the fourth Thursday (the 23rd) as a way of
granting Depression-era merchants a longer Christmas selling
season. F.D.R.'s Thanksgiving formula was later codified into
federal law, but not before Ogden Nash composed the following
couplet:
Thanksgiving, like Ambassadors, Cabinet officers and
others smeared with political ointment,
Depends for its existence on Presidential appointment.
What adds a quaint, almost innocent flavor to this bygone
controversy is the outmoded notion that department stores wait
patiently until the end of Thanksgiving to unveil Santa's workshop.
Now, of course, four-year-olds are still gorging on Halloween candy
when the Saturday-morning ads begin their incessant shilling for
Christmas toys. In a nation where the mall never palls and
seven-days-a-week shopping seems enshrined as a civic religion,
Thanksgiving stands out as an oasis of tranquillity and a reminder
of the values that once tempered America's materialism. This
Thursday give thanks for the one holiday that cannot be bought.