Thanksgiving... shmanksgiving

I guess I should start out this blog by wishing all of you US citizens a happy thanksgiving...but I won't. Not because I'm against giving thanks, quite the opposite, I am about giving thanks every single day. It is just that this day, to me, symbolizes the subjugation of indigenous people. So if I were to wish you a happy thanksgiving, I would be wishing the indigenous Americans a big, F You. Not really I guess, but still, I think that is important to keep that in mind because it is still very relevant in the world today.

Also, I haven't really celebrated this holiday in a while. Last year, I went to my aunt and uncle's house in Michigan and my uncle was dying. It was very sad also because my father had just passed away and the entire holiday was a bit greif-stricken.

The year before that, and before that, I was in Germany. They have something similar to Thanksgiving in Germany, it is called Gänse Essen and you eat goose instead of Turkey. It was always really delicious, probably my favorite German meal. I actually prefer that to Turkey and green bean casserole...can't imagine why. Julian and I used to go to this castle in the country that had been converted into a B&B with a group of his father's friends. We would eat a lot and then cuddle in this beautiful room with a fireplace. It was nice. Sometimes I think about those things, and it hurts.

I don't know what it is about holidays that makes me love to listen to old music.

So yeah, I haven't been much of a fan of Thanksgiving. Even when I was younger, I didn't like going with my relatives to Kentucky. I loved my aunt and uncle's big, beautiful house, I loved exploring all the rooms and playing with their Cocker Spaniel Buffy. The thing is though, my father's brothers and sisters are extremely weird. I'm talking...WEIRD. I think my Grandmother was smoking something while pregnant. My father and one other brother were normal or conversational I guess you'd say, but the rest...fuggedaboudit. They all moved from Detroit to Kentucky and adopted both southern accents and an unusual amount of patriotism. Each time in recent years when Thanksgiving or Christmas would roll around, I would seek out the most potent bottle of wine and barricade myself in a room upstairs with one of my cousins and a TV. My father would be downstairs playing cards, my mother would also be drinking but pretending to socialize, and my sister would usually be playing with my little cousins or actually socializing.
Days like today I miss my Dad a lot. He loved to cook, it didn't matter where we were, on any given holiday, he would be making something delicious. At my aunt's house, I would eventually wander downstairs to find my dad and uncles playing cards or backgammon. I would rest my head on his shoulder and he would say, "Hi Doll," or "Hi Mona," and it was probably the most comforting part of the day.

I have been drinking Bloody Mary's. My roommates just left for their family Thanksgiving and it just dawned on me that maybe I should get ready.