I had set myself to write an article debunking the myth of Thanksgiving this year, but I deleted it as a gift to the memory of my grandmother Dorothy. Dorothy, from Kansas. Here is a link to the Thanksgiving article I wrote about her and my hometown in 2006. It has been updated to reflect a much larger portion of my memories about Leoti itself, along with a couple more images I’ve stumbled on along the way to 2019 from 2006.
There have been Thanksgivings to remember since I wrote that article. I remember one year in particular where we had the entire family/library room of the house full of friends. We watched movies all the rest of that day, we even let someone watch football in another room while we watched movies, a rarity in this house. That was a good year. Most years it’s a bit of turkey and/or ham with some dressing. Pecan pie is a must, especially one made by my mother-in-law. Forget pumpkin pie, that I can do without. I do miss Grandma Dorothy’s cherry pies. Those were without comparison.
I refused to eat corn on the cob when it was presented to me this year. The first time that I’ve ever just not eaten food that was presented to me to taste on Thanksgiving. I hate corn on the cob, like I hate most foods that get between my teeth. So I sympathize with Dan Pashman on the subject of there being a Thanksgiving Industrial Complex. Pie. Thanksgiving is about pie. Pie, and stuffing with gravy. I haven’t found a holiday meat that I’m fond of yet. Could salmon be the holiday meat? Stay tuned.
I’m going to have to give her show on Netflix a chance to convince me that I can cook. But I’m betting even she can’t achieve that herculean task. Threadgill’s Thanksgiving. Don’t knock it till you try it.