It is my great misfortune that throwing anything away is for me almost a psychological impossibility.

Wednesday, November 21, 2001

It is my great misfortune that throwing anything away is for me almost a psychological impossibility. Still it has some perks. Last year I stowed away a whole page of historical tidbits concerning the first Thanksgiving. The page appeared in the Minneapolis Star Tribune. I have no intention of &uot;borrowing&uot; it in its entirety, but there’s a paragraph from a letter written by Edward Winslow, Plymouth, Mass., dated Dec. 11, 1621, that may interest you.

Sent to a friend in England, the letter followed the first Thanksgiving celebrated in this country. The paragraph that intrigued me reads:

&uot;Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that we might after have a special manner rejoice together after we had gathered in the fruit of our labors; they four in one day killed as much fowl, as with a little help beside, served the company almost a week, at which time amongst the other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest King Massasoit, with some 90 men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation and bestowed upon our governor, and upon the captain, and others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God, we are so far from want that we often wish you partakers of our plenty.&uot;

According to many historians, those who came to early New England, who wished to not just remove certain rituals from their worship but to break entirely with what they considered Romanish tradition, instituted Thanksgiving as a substitute for Christmas.

It always amuses me when people write letters to the editor about how shocked our founding fathers would be if they knew public schools were forbidding the singing of Christmas carols. If they knew their American history they’d know that some of our founding fathers threw you in jail if you were caught singing a Christmas carol.

While at the university I had an English literature professor from Vermont who told her class that she had two great-aunts who following Christmas each year, gathered their gifts in baskets. Then they went from house to house of the gift givers and returned the gifts, explaining: &uot;We don’t celebrate this papist holiday.&uot;

Personally, I’m for all the winter holidays we can manage. Have you ever considered what a Minnesota winter would be with no Thanksgiving, no Christmas, no New Year’s, no 12th night, no Valentine’s Day to brighten it up a bit?

I’m never ready for Christmas no matter how many resolutions I make, but when I drove out Monday and saw the beautiful decorations up I was delighted. So far as I’m concerned it can’t start too early or last too long.

I remember many years ago listening to a religious speaker discussing the various kinds of prayer: the prayer of petition, the prayer for forgiveness, the prayer for guidance and, according the the speaker, the most important: the prayer of thanks. For, as he pointed out, Jesus gave thanks and fed a hungry multitude; gave thanks and raised Lazarus from the dead. The speaker pointed out that the thanks were given before the miracle was made evident.

I always liked the hymns we sang in church at Thanksgiving. There was one that carried the lines, &uot;Gratitude is riches, complaint is poverty.&uot;

To me, far from gratitude being a shallow, Polly Anna sort of gladness, gratitude, even if not audibly expressed, is a way of life. To be mindful always of our blessings is to be beautifully in love with life.

I’ve always loved the lines from a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson:

&uot;If beams from happy human eyes

Have moved me not; if morning skies

Books, and my food, and summer rain

Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:-

Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take

And stab my spirit broad awake.&uot;

I wish to all of you a most blessed and happy Thanksgiving.

Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column appears Thursdays.