Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is the only truly national holiday in America: It’s the one day that we—wherever we live—stop and celebrate with at least some of the traditions we were taught. Like a lot of gay folk (and bohemians generally), some of my fondest memories are of Thanksgivings spent with families of choice (especially Mr. G, who won’t be reading this).

This year, as in some previous years in New Zealand, I organised a pseudo-Thanksgiving dinner. There were some key bits missing, because of time and other factors, but we still had a good time. Our niece, who was recently in America, joked about whether we all had to take turns reciting what we were thankful for. I replied that I could answer in one word: “Nigel”. Only, really, I wasn’t joking.

Obviously, I’m also thankful for my family and friends. My parents gave me life and so much more; I like to think that they made it possible for the best parts of me to flourish. But the rest of my family and friends, even when I wanted to throttle them, helped me to learn and grow, so I’m also thankful for them.

If we’re really, really lucky, we learn something from every experience we have and every person we meet. So if one day a year we stop and remember that, it’s got to be a good thing.

Happy Thanksgiving.

I also have posts about Thanksgiving last year and in 2006.