I have a Thanksgiving story for your consumption that has nothing to do with turkeys or pumpkin pie or crazy uncles.
Instead, in an effort to remind you what this holiday can really stand for, we’ll meet some people who are thankful today for simply being free.
It’s a short story today, but an especially touching one, so follow along and we’ll take a little hop across the Atlantic for a trip you should not miss.
Like many, I was raised in a traditional Catholic, Caucasian home, believing everything I was taught about the greatness of America and the Church. I was thankful for being born in the greatest country and raised in the greatest (and only TRUE) church. Erosion set in slowly for me. Living in the segregated South, it took me a while to recognize the imperfection of my nation's and my religion's treatment of minorities. Somewhere around age eighteen, I had the temerity to begin thinking for myself, which led to the end of my serious association with the Church of my youth. I actually realized that church is spelled with a lower case "c".
(- A little change from sex toys, airplanes, taxes, and Jo Bonner - promoted by herding old cats)
The American Thanksgiving Day holiday rapidly approaches, and in homes across this land we will be treated to the sights and smells of the holiday feast.
In millions of homes we will also celebrate with sound.
What sound is that, you ask? Why, of course, the slurping sound of cranberry sauce sliding out of the can in all its quivering, cylindrical glory.
For some, this is the sound of happiness, but for others it’s a sound to be tolerated at best-and we come before you today to offer easy and fun alternatives…not just for your cranberry consideration, but also for those most humble-and most delicious-of tubers: yams and sweet potatoes.
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