The Big Chicken
Another Name For Thanksgiving
My Israeli husband calls Thanksgiving “The Big Chicken.” He doesn’t quite get what the all excitement is about, and honestly, the older I get, the less I care about The Big Chicken, too. Let me get this straight: the Pilgrims broke bread with the lovely Native Americans only to follow it up by decimating them? And we’re celebrating that? Let’s face it: The Pilgrims were to the colonies—what Christian Nationalists are to the United States. Project 2025 much? If ever there were a year to skip The Big Chicken, it’s this one.
Watching any president pardon a turkey during that awkward press event is a bizarre tradition when you stop to think about it. I did this year and was…like…WTF?
[SIDEBAR] Speaking of nonsensical annual animal outings that we don’t need, Groundhog’s Day comes to mind.
Besides, what are we pardoning the turkeys for anyway? Existing? Being bred to die and slathered in gravy? Shouldn’t turkeys be pardoning us inhumane humans? Honestly, in hindsight, Thanksgiving is getting less celebrate-y as time goes on. Imagine how chickens must feel—why don’t they get a special holiday? Really, they have been robbed of even a modicum of grace, relegated to a second-class bird citizens. Chickens probably hate turkeys. And humans, too.
Ok, I get it. Let’s be thankful for something…anything. This past year has been life-altering for me in the best way. I crossed two massive items off my bucket list:
Publishing my book, Won’t Be Silent.
Releasing my first documentary, LOUDER: The Soundtrack of Change, now streaming on MAX.
Yes, I was farklempt. You’d think I’d be reveling in all this highfalutin hullabaloo—this cause célèbre. Of course, it’s incredibly rewarding and bravo me. Unfortunately, these faits accomplis are not get rich quick schemes. Au contraire, mon chers and cheris. Just the opposite. So, guess who has to start from scratch come 2025.
Of course, I’m beyond grateful this year for those achievements, my health, my family, my husband, my friends, and Alfie.
But I am not grateful for the way the world works. And don’t even get me started on the election. Or the state of humanity. Besides, I have a corn pudding to make.
So, here’s to The Big Chicken: a holiday that’s still a good excuse to pause, reflect, and try—however reluctantly—to be thankful for something…anything. Bon Apetit!
Thank you for your humor and passion.
Thanks for being my rock of sanity in this insane world. I, too, am more focused on the people that I love. So when families and friends get together, save the drumstick for me.