Thanksgiving: Gratitude, Chaos, and That One Project I Swore I’d Finish

So here we are, Thanksgiving—my favorite holiday of the year. It has always struck me as uniquely pure. A holiday designed, quite literally, to distract us from our problems so we can focus on gratitude and give people a reason to come together. That’s it. No ulterior motive. No cards to buy, no gifts to exchange. Just a day meant for gathering. It’s beautifully simple. Maybe that’s why it works.

A 250-page book of handwritten grateful messages collected from strangers around the country

Thanksgiving really does go back to a Pilgrim - Native American feast in the 1600s. And yes, I could give you the whole history, but I’m limited on words here and I assume you know how to search. What’s more interesting is that Abraham Lincoln made it a national holiday during the Civil War. Why? Because even he realized this country needed a timeout. One day for everyone to sit down, breathe, and say, “Okay, things are awful, but pass the stuffing.”

Of course, Thanksgiving has evolved. We now celebrate with parades, football, and Black Friday - our warm and fuzzy tradition of stampeding into stores at 5 a.m. to save $18 on an air fryer. But hey, if it gets your shopping done early, even if you could have done it online, I’m not judging. I’ll admire your determination from my couch.

Apophyllite Meditation Crystal, a genre of phyllosilicate mineral, is 

awesome for meditation and helps to calm the mind and feel the love. 

If you’re lucky, you spend the holiday surrounded by relatives and friends you don’t see often. You eat, drink, reminisce, share stories about yesterday and updates about today. You watch your kids and grandkids form their own memories, connections and inside jokes, while the grandparents smile quietly, grateful for all the years behind them and hopeful for the ones ahead. If this sounds idyllic, it’s because in many homes across the country, it still is.

In our family, we host Thanksgiving every year. Every. Single. Year. And you’d think with three married kids, each with a perfectly good home, we might rotate. But no. My wife insists on hosting because, and I quote, “It’s tradition.”

Also because she loves to cook. And by “cook,” I mean she plans, preps, and tests recipes with the precision of a NASA mission. To be fair, she’s outsourced most of it in recent years. The kids bring side dishes, carefully organized in a group text that reads like a culinary draft: “I’ve got the sweet potatoes with marshmallows!” “I’ll take the stuffing!” “Who’s doing the beet salad? Anyone? Bueller?”

The men deep-fry the turkey, because nothing says “holiday spirit” like lowering a large bird into a vat of boiling oil and hoping your homeowner’s insurance is up to date.

When the house finally clears out, everything somehow ends up spotless. Dishes washed. Leftovers portioned out like we’re meal-prepping for winter hibernation. Tables and chairs folded and returned to the basement. It’s like the holiday never happened—except for the faint smell of turkey and the mysterious Tupperware lid that will never be reunited with its container.

Great watches. Very cool styles and combinations of colors and bands.

The family believes we still host Thanksgiving because my wife loves the tradition, the memories, the nostalgia of everyone gathering in the house where the kids grew up. And she does. Absolutely.

But I’ve discovered another reason.

Hosting gives her the perfect annual opportunity to guilt me into finishing a project I’ve avoided for months. This year’s assignment? A dining room chair. I don’t know why we suddenly need another chair - are we expecting royalty? Did one run away? No explanation was given. Just the annual reminder: “Remember your New Year’s resolution?”

Ah yes. My January optimism. Back when I said, “I’ll have this chair refinished by Thanksgiving.” Technically true, I just didn’t specify which Thanksgiving. But apparently deadlines matter, because I was informed, loudly, that I’ve had “TEN MONTHS. TEN!”

In the spirit of the holiday, I nodded, accepted my fate, and got to work. Sort of. Eventually. Mostly.

But here’s the thing: beneath the cooking, chaos, and tradition, Thanksgiving gives us exactly what we need, just a reason to be together. The reason is to slow down, laugh, eat too much, and remember that, despite everything, life is pretty good when the house is full.

So, on this one day of the year enjoy the only holiday where all we give is thanks, and all we receive is the joy of family, friends, and being together. 

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