The true Thanksgiving story (according to Art Buchwald)

Bonjout tout le monde,
Thanksgiving is this Thursday, and there is a lot for me to be thankful for.  I'm excited and thankful that there will be four generations around the table, and that I have wonderful friends, family and friends who are also family.
However, if you were wondering about the first Thanksgiving, my favorite explanation was given by the late Art Buchwald, first printed in 2005.  Reading it always makes me laugh out loud, so I am sharing it with you.  I hope that you find it amusing and informational, too. 

Le Grande Thanksgiving
By Art Buchwald
Thursday, November 24, 2005 

This confidential column was leaked to me by a high government official in the Plymouth colony on the condition that I not reveal his name.
One of our most important holidays is Thanksgiving Day, known in France as le Jour de Merci Donnant .
Le Jour de Merci Donnant was first started by a group of Pilgrims ( Pelerins ) who fled from l'Angleterre before the McCarran Act to found a colony in the New World ( le Nouveau Monde ) where they could shoot Indians ( les Peaux-Rouges ) and eat turkey ( dinde ) to their hearts' content.
They landed at a place called Plymouth (now a famous voiture Americaine ) in a wooden sailing ship called the Mayflower (or Fleur de Mai ) in 1620. But while the Pelerins were killing the dindes, the Peaux-Rouges were killing the Pelerins, and there were several hard winters ahead for both of them. The only way the Peaux-Rouges helped the Pelerins was when they taught them to grow corn ( mais ). The reason they did this was because they liked corn with their Pelerins.
In 1623, after another harsh year, the Pelerins' crops were so good that they decided to have a celebration and give thanks because more mais was raised by the Pelerins than Pelerins were killed by Peaux-Rouges.
Every year on the Jour de Merci Donnant, parents tell their children an amusing story about the first celebration.
It concerns a brave capitaine named Miles Standish (known in France as Kilometres Deboutish) and a young, shy lieutenant named Jean Alden. Both of them were in love with a flower of Plymouth called Priscilla Mullens (no translation). The vieux capitaine said to the jeune lieutenant :
"Go to the damsel Priscilla ( allez tres vite chez Priscilla), the loveliest maiden of Plymouth ( la plus jolie demoiselle de Plymouth). Say that a blunt old captain, a man not of words but of action ( un vieux Fanfan la Tulipe ), offers his hand and his heart, the hand and heart of a soldier. Not in these words, you know, but this, in short, is my meaning.
"I am a maker of war ( je suis un fabricant de la guerre ) and not a maker of phrases. You, bred as a scholar ( vous, qui tes pain comme un tudiant ), can say it in elegant language, such as you read in your books of the pleadings and wooings of lovers, such as you think best adapted to win the heart of the maiden."
Although Jean was fit to be tied ( convenable tre emballe ), friendship prevailed over love and he went to his duty. But instead of using elegant language, he blurted out his mission. Priscilla was muted with amazement and sorrow ( rendue muette par l'tonnement et las tristesse ).
At length she exclaimed, interrupting the ominous silence: "If the great captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me, why does he not come himself and take the trouble to woo me?" ( Ou est-il, le vieuxKilometres? Pourquoi ne vient-il pas aupres de moi pour tenter sa chance ?)
Jean said that Kilometres Deboutish was very busy and didn't have time for those things. He staggered on, telling what a wonderful husband Kilometres would make. Finally Priscilla arched her eyebrows and said in a tremulous voice, "Why don't you speak for yourself, Jean?" ( Chacun a son gout. )
And so, on the fourth Thursday in November, American families sit down at a large table brimming with tasty dishes and, for the only time during the year, eat better than the French do.
No one can deny that le Jour de Merci Donnant is a grande fte and no matter how well fed American families are, they never forget to give thanks to Kilometres Deboutish, who made this great day possible.
2005Tribune Media Services

Happy Thanksgiving!

Bonjour tout le monde,
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and we are carrying on a tradition that was started years ago by my parents.  My then husband's cousin had just married a woman from Mexico.  Her parents hadn't yet met him, and were coming up for Thanksgiving just for that purpose - and to spend time with their daughter and son, both of whom lived in California.  My parents had already invited Michael and his wife for dinner; when they learned that her parents were going to be here too, they didn't hesitate to extend the invitation to them also.  Her parents didn't speak any English, my parents and grandparents (who were still alive) didn't speak any Spanish. Neither do I, but Marcella and her brother spoke both, so we were good.

Marcella's parents weren't so hot on their daughter marrying a black man; all they knew about African-Americans is what they saw on television, which means that all they saw were gangsters, prostitutes and the like. Imagine their surprise when they sat down to share a turkey dinner with four generations of a family that looked nothing like they had ever seen.  The dinner was full of fun and laughter, with a lot of translation help from Marcella and her brother.  Our evening ended with hugs all around and a standing invitaiton to visit her parents in Mexico.

That Thanksgiving dinner said a lot about my parents, who always let me do what I wanted (within reason, you know...) and have always supported me.  My grandparents deserve some credit also; with my grandfather being a minister, the tradition of having others in one's home was ingrained in my mother and uncles.  These wonderful people welcomed total strangers into their home, because they were visitors, and also because they were related to good friends.  I still marvel at that dinner, and when I have a little time I will try to find a photo from that Thanksgiving.

This Thanksgiving, I am blessed to have two of our five children, plus their spouses and significant others, my 96 year old dad, and close friends who are just like family.  I will stress over what tablecloths to use, how to arrange the table (or tables), and figure out an oven schedule to accomodate our cooking.  At the end of tomorrow evening, I will be very tired, and probably a little cranky (in that case, just hand me another glass of wine) but so happy that we had another successful Thanksgiving filled with love, laughter, and some really good food.
How about you?

from a long ago family meal - not sure if it is Thanksgiving