A Geek's Thanksgiving: Thankful for TV, Tofurkey and Snoopy

Savannah Book I, II, III and DOC Valentines für Herr Ichabod

A Geek's Thanksgiving: Thankful for TV, Tofurkey and Snoopy

I am not ready for Christmas. Ergo, please, retailers and marketing squads, just chill and give us a few weeks of the orange-and-brown before the red-and-green arrives with its proverbial bells jingling. Now, please, do not misread me ... I adore Christmas, adore it! Not only was I raised in a home with consistently luxurious, department store-/magazine-quality decor and a year-round Christmas tree in our mountain cabin, but Christmas Day usually meant dinner at Disneyland. I also spent six years living in Colonial Williamsburg and, trust me, there is nothing much more festive than a Disney Christmas or a Colonial Christmas, except maybe a Parisian Noel. All that aside, I need some time to prepare: spiritually and sartorially.

Nothing is more glorious than an autumn day so perfect it is of filmic proportions: like the art department hand-painted every leaf the perfect shade of red, sprinkled Georgian window panes with the just the right amount of raindrops and yellow gels were placed on all the interior lighting, making a university coffeehouse more like Mormor's Nordic Kitchen, alive with the smell of espresso and nutmeg. This is generally best experienced in Annapolis, Yarmouth, or Colonial Williamsburg.

I need time to enjoy all of this, usually in my tweeds and camel overcoats , before the winter-white cashmere sweaters and red Mary Janes come out of hiding. I need time to order pumpkin harvest bisque and a Guinness in a pub before truffles and pancake ice-topped martinis become apres-Christmas shopping de rigueur; before dear Mormor puts out her Santa-head sugar cookies; and, before Starbucks forces its red-cup cheer on me ... the day after Hallowe'en! J'accuse, Starbucks ... you, of all folks, should appreciate autumn for its leisurely solace.

Now, I cherish, nearly . I await the legendary Pumpkin Spice Latte (PSL) all year long; yet, it's all so short-lived, hidden behind the red-cup brigade. Design a Thanksgiving cup, Sbux, if you please: tobacco background with mustard-yellow and brick-red swirls steaming up the cup and all topped off with a turkey silhouette. Ahh, yesss, I can see it now. Well done, me!

In fact, it is somewhat odd, this Thanksgiving penchant of mine, considering the fact that I am a vegetarian (since about the age of fifteen) and a Native American: 1/8 Choctaw ... so, I may make all the "Feather, not dot" and "Casino, not convenience store" jokes I want. Oh, don't get your p.c. panties in a proverbial bunch. I'll bet there was a joke around some dinner table during Diwali that would have offended me, had I known of it. Let's all have a sense of humour, shall we?

Apropos to annoying political correctness, similar to Wednesday Addams in Addams Family Values or Bobby Hill in King of the Hill's "Spin the Choice" I have certainly been a teenaged, Thanksgiving pain-in-the-ass. As a young punk I oft protested the massacre of Native Americans, the buffalo and the turkeys, all from the courageous seat of a warm and comfortable, upper-middle-class dining room, free of any consequence other than eye-rolls served up alongside King's Hawaiian rolls. These mild, semi-public assertions were usually manifested via either wardrobe choices (Ralph Lauren southwestern-motif dress, turquoise jewelry, fringed Frye boots), pouting and/or preaching (the year I went veggie), or making my own, authentic succotash (vile disaster). Of course, as the turkey goes, nothing has chilled my tenacity there. I have not partaken in a Thanksgiving turkey or ham since my early teens. To that end, I also will not break a wishbone; the concept makes me shudder.

In the end, I have happily come to realize that other people's habits are not my concern; it is awfully pompous of me to declare anything at a family holiday, however glossy my hair may be that day. I eat my Tofurkey (Thanks, Mom!!) as others eat their trusting bird and large, pink, farm animal with the suspected I.Q. of a human six year-old and we all share copious amounts of wine, candied yams, coffee and laughs. This is as far as I will go with the sappy, obligatory "I am thankful for ... " liturgy. I am most thankful for the fact that I neither need nor care to share my deepest and most emotional Thanksgiving musings. My beloveds and I already know the score and it need not be spake thusly.

Oh, wait a minute, I am thankful for one thing I feel I must share with the World. I am Thankful for television! Well, television and film: visual media in general. To wit, as I hope I helped a few lost souls find their way through the Hallowe'en television mist, I humbly offer a Tofurkey platter piled high with moist and steamy media goodness. Happy Tofurkey Day, America!!

Jen as a pilgrim for fifth grade