For study until 24th of November 2024
Subject: Thanksgiving
Audio: On usual social media platforms
Thanksgiving
British people don’t celebrate Thanksgiving but there’s always an American around to invite us. When my American neighbours invited me to spend Thanksgiving with them, I was sure there must be some kind of catch. So I desperately tried to think of an excuse:
“Eh, sorry I will be working” I answered quickly.
“Oh that’s fine, just pop in when you can” he responded.
“Eh yes ok but what exactly do you do on that day”? I asked…
“We just try to welcome the neighbours to join us so we can eat together…” He went on to say how the whole family get together and sit round the table saying what they are thankful for.
“Oh, how not British” I murmured, remembering how Americans love positive thinking. The scene kind of resembled an episode of the Simpsons where Homer meets the neighbour Ned Flanders. The thought of sitting around a table and talking about what I’m grateful for sounds more like a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous, rather than a good time.
It was one of those moments where I realised just how different British and American culture is. This couple have 13 kids and he is only forty-five years old. The oldest one is “coming home” for Thanksgiving and will be helping to cook. Again how “not British” I thought to myself. That means at least one child a year – Don’t they have Netflix? Then I remembered, they shun TV completely. So one child being born every year isn’t so strange after all.
“What else will you do”? I asked…. “Surely you will spend a lot of time on skype with your relatives back home?” trying to carve out a plan and reason why it would not be perceived rude if I didn’t attend, in line with my British politeness.
“Oh they will be at Church all day” he replied “so we will catch up with them in the night, we have 6 hours difference anyway.”
“Darn – is no excuse good enough“? I thought.
“I will start cooking at 12pm, you can come along and help me if you want, my daughter will have most of it done, I will do the meat”. He chuckled.
I have watched enough American movies to know that when American men cook, it is all about showing masculinity, maleness and some kind of egotistical trip about being male. British men usually do that by either having a barbecue with alcohol or going to the pub and getting drunk. For us Brits the camaraderie in drinking is more important than the food. I scratched my head for a moment remembering that this guy is actually tee-total. I don’t drink either so we are more alike than not. I found myself wondering why I found him so annoying then.
“I’ll need to spend a lot of time out hunting next week, to walk off the weight after this celebration” he snorted.
“Ah Yes” I thought to myself, I remembered why he leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It’s that habit Americans have of being outdoors and doing things, like driving golf carts, shooting animals and fishing. I didn’t even know we had hunting clubs here but of course I could see his collection of guns behind him which were lined up like trophies.
“Aren’t you afraid the kids might find these?” I asked.
“It’s better they get used to them early” he said – “besides the ammunition is kept far away”.
“Anyway, the wife and kids would love to see you on Thanksgiving” he continued.
When people talk about “loving to see me”, I always get a bit suspicious. It’s a sure sign that the opposite is true however with Americans you never know… I think he might actually mean it. They don’t share our British dark cynicism. They honestly think the world is a nice place.
MaryBeth, the wife appeared, “13 kids, its no surprise she looks tired”. I thought to myself.
“Why don’t you join us for Breakfast on Thanksgiving” she uttered. MaryBeth is a common North American name, a shortened version of Mary Elizabeth.
I could see there really was no escape, but breakfast might be a way out of this because they will be up and ready for Church on this auspicious day. So I gave in, breakfast with the neighbours then I’ll spend the rest of the day recovering. The youngest has been practicing playing the American National Anthem – I only know that because it woke me up a few days ago, but of course I would never mention that to them.
“Samuel has been practicing playing the American National Anthem on the Piano” the mother said proudly. I bit my lip and resisted saying something sarcastic about his practice time.
“You son of a gun” said the father as he ruffled the boy’s hair with his hand.
“We never see Jonathan these days – he is training to become a minister” they went on to say proudly. He is the eldest son apparently. No one ever speaks about the middle one, Thomas, I was going to ask about him but it just didn’t feel right.
I felt kind of sad, we speak the same language, live in the same street but couldn’t be more different.
“Oh, how is……. your…. Cat… dog – pet, toffee?” – MaryBeth asked. Clearly they weren’t in touch with the important things in my life. They smiled…. in a kind of a truculent way which emitted pity.
“My cat…… Ptofi…. He is fine” I answered before making an excuse to leave.
“Oh I made jam today for you and the family” she said, breaking the awkwardness of the moment, handing me a jar of jam. It really felt like an episode of a homespun American drama although no one was getting shot in this rerun.
“Sorry I forgot your wife’s name” she continued.
“Don’t worry, I’ve forgotten all 13 names of your kids as well… by the way, how is Thomas?” I retaliated.
“eh, well, we don’t really……” they both said at the same time “anyway, enjoy the jam”
“Oh thanks” I replied while backing towards the door. Glancing over my shoulder at the rifles and child in the room as I made a hasty retreat.
“See you on Thanksgiving” – came the voices behind me, it was starting to feel more like Amityville, an American horror movie than a drama.
I thought to myself “I really wish that UK people had something like Thanksgiving where we could all sit around the table happily” but then I remembered, we do, it’s called Christmas and although we all sit around the table, it’s rarely happy.
My mind went to Thomas, somehow I knew that he will be the elephant in the room this year, if he is actually invited.