Breaking a Taboo

Thanksgiving is one of my least favorite holidays.  It is such a cultural taboo to admit that you don't like Thanksgiving in America - regardless of your reason.  My reasoning isn't as grand as thinking about the genocide of the Native American population, although it is something we should consider.  It isn't because I'm not grateful for my life or my family, friends, the goodness I have experienced.  To be honest, it should be my favorite holiday, in some ways, because we often celebrated Roby's birthday on Thanksgiving.  That part is good to me...

I'm not a big fan of most Thanksgiving food, so I spend a day smelling smells that aren't appealing, waiting for some food that we have to eat at a time when I'm not hungry. I'm in the mid-generation - the generation who doesn't have a place in the kitchen yet because the Moms are doing it. I'm the entertainment. But often, I am left to be victim to the more dysfunctional in the group. Or free child care.  I don't watch football and there is only so much televised parade watching a person can do.

I don't have a big family, so it had never been a holiday where people came from far and wide to visit and talk about old times. My father watched football, my mother cooked and my sister and I were left to our own devices for the most part.

I guess from this, it isn't easy to understand why Thanksgiving is my least favorite holiday, but it is.  I really hate it. I can't wait for it to be done. Every year I dread it.

So, into the fray I go. Wish me luck. Or Godspeed. Or survival. Just unscathed survival would be nice.