The Celebration Of An American Tale

So, it looks like my sissy B has come to the rescue again and provided me with a whole list of suggestions for topics!  In fact, I am using one of her suggestions this very day!  (However, do NOT think you are off the hook for posting comments if you’re reading this…which you may not be.)

Well, the holidays are upon us and Thanksgiving is drawing nearer every day!  (That is the nature of days, you see.)  I almost love Thanksgiving more than Christmas because it marks the beginning of the Christmas season.  The radio stations start playing that Snoopy and the Red Baron song, Hersheys and Coca Cola release their charming commercials, people put up Christmas lights and I don’t feel guilty for drinking up to eleven hot chocolates per day because swimsuit season is a million years away!  But I’m getting ahead of myself…  We are talking about Thanksgiving.

To kick off the post-Halloween but too-early-for-Christmas (according to some people who are NOT ME) season, my sister came over on Sunday to watch an overly Disnified* version of Squanto.  Quick survey:  How many of you thought that Squanto was the nice Native American gentleman who taught the pilgrims to plant their corn with dead fish?  Well, that is what I thought.

However, according to the always accurate historical records of Hollywood, Squanto was living with his family in the New World when he married an underfed girl with pretty hair named Nakooma.  After doing the Virginia reel around a bonfire, the young newlyweds return to their teepee amidst cat calls and whoops of excitement which one can only assume are meant to encourage wedding night activities.  When the camera enters the teepee with the love struck couple, we gasp; Disney would never show that in a family movie!  Just as you think they are about to do it, Nakooma gives Squanto a feather and the tension is relieved.  Whew!  The last thing I want to do is see a historical figure I learned about in elementary school doing something that elementary school children should know nothing about!

Now comes the sad part.  When the White Man comes to Squanto’s town, they trick about five warriors into helping them load their ship with the goods that they have traded.  But you can never trust the White Man, because when he is asking you to help him move, he will NOT provide the doughnuts and coffee.  What he really wants to do is trick you into moving to England and joining a circus that trivializes your people by making them into a spectacle for the masses.  Also, there will be a bear involved who will attack you and you will have to sing it a lullaby so it will leave you alone and you can escape with your new friend who has dreadlocks.  But your friend won’t escape because when you jump out a window, he will break his leg but he is noble and tells you to go ahead without him.  So, you do and you end up living in a monastery with some nice monks who teach you about horses and English and beards.  Also, they will give you a shirt.  You will in turn teach them about the wisdom of your ways and nature and girls.  When the bad guys storm the monastery, you will narrowly escape with the help of a super old guy.  This is a good thing because without his help, you wouldn’t be able to sneak onto a ship returning to the New World so you can see your family and your wife again.

But, when you get there, everyone will be dead, including Nakooma.  You will get sad and then mad, but you won’t forget what you learned from the monks about being nice to people who are mean to you.  Later the pilgrims will come and you will realize that not all white people want to trick you into moving their stuff so you will help them plant vegetables and hunt.  Then, on the last Thursday of November, you will have a picnic where you share with your new friends who listened to your speech about how we are all the same and we have to stop killing each other because blood makes a mess.

Now, I don’t know how much of this story rings true but here is what I do know:  Squanto was kidnapped by the English, learned the language and when he returned home, he was the only remaining member of his tribe.  (Apparently, they had been at odds with another tribe and the other tribe killed them all.)  Later, when the pilgrims came to the New World, he helped them because he knew their language.  After the harvest, they had the first Thanksgiving.  I also know that Habibi and I never try and trick our friends when we ask them to help us move.  In fact, we usually buy them pizza or something.  We have never made them sail to England.  Never.

So this Thanksgiving, as you’re eating your mashed potatoes and thinking about the friendship between the pilgrims and the Native Americans over 300 years ago, take a moment to reflect on your own friendships and give thanks.  Also, don’t agree to help anyone move unless you have backup.

*I must cite my sister as the source for this fantastic word.