For every great thing that has ever happened or been happened upon, be it the moon landing or the great Woody Allen, there is bound to be a perpetual amount of scandal that proceeds. Now, not to say that Stanley Kubrick didn’t direct the moon landing--- as I’m not one to deny the public of their creative thinking-- but the idea of taking that which is wholesome and incredible, and whittling it down to something worth questioning, all because of over-analytical skepticism, is something I believe humans do all too frequently.

There’s no fun in anything anymore. I’m completely hyperbolizing, of course, but I have felt rather confined as of late, unsure of who and what is okay to consider fun and enjoyable. No longer can I go see a movie without becoming distracted by the capitalistic industry of film, or eat chicken parm at an Italian restaurant without recognizing that such a dish is an act of complete cultural appropriation. It’s good to recognize these things, sure, but to completely exploit them is far from necessary. Because regardless of who made it and what they were thinking, chicken parmesan is way too delicious to give up for the sake of cultural misconceptions, and I will love any movie I see with Colin Firth in it, no matter how much Warner Bros. profited off it.

There’s no fun in holidays anymore. This is hardly a hyperbole. Apart from Christopher Columbus Day, which I will in no way recognize as necessary and appropriate, I have always found that most dissension that comes to surface about any holiday, be it Thanksgiving or Easter or Sadie Hawkins day, is a complete exaggeration. What was once looked upon as an opportunity to gather with friends and family has, for many, morphed into a day to sit behind a computer and type out all the qualms one has with the politically incorrect agenda of federal holidays.

To some degree, I get it, because while I can’t necessarily say it’s fair that people in the U.S. spend billions of dollars on Christmas presents while there are children who don’t know where their next meal is coming from, I don’t think the holiday is to be blamed for income inequality and domestic poverty. Instead, Christmas should be looked on as an opportunity to spend time with friends and family, enjoying each other’s company and being grateful for the opportunities at hand, and the kindness you’ve displayed for one another (aww!).

Similarly, I can understand and recognize the cultural appropriation that the U.S. exemplified when they decided, however long ago, that the icons of Thanksgiving would be a buckle-hatted pilgrim and a war-painted Native American. I, however, have never considered Thanksgiving more than a day to recognize and celebrate all that I am grateful for, my family most especially. The motif is historically inaccurate, this I can agree with, but to reject Thanksgiving entirely without addressing the strong family and moral values it is so closely adjoined with it is simply invalid.

The name delineates the overall concept of the holiday: Thanksgiving. Giving. Thanks. We don’t call it, “Day in which, we swear, the Native Americans were totally cool with the Puritans coming through and pooing all over their culture.” This was an adapted concept, and in 1863 when Abraham Lincoln decided Thanksgiving was to be a federal holiday, it called upon as a day of, “Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.” And while I know that its roots are planted in that often dramatized and crudely depicted story of the relationship between Native American and Pilgrim, Thanksgiving has become a quintessential aspect of American culture for more than its history. It is a day in which we celebrate the love of a family and all the opportunities we’ve been granted. Remove the inaccuracy from Thanksgiving, and you’re left with a day that brings families together in times of hardships, and brings out a feeling of graciousness for those gathered.

Every year, my father smokes (as in, with cedar planks and a smoker) a turkey larger than my 10-year-old brother. And he makes pie and potatoes and a sundry of other strictly-prepared, painfully traditional, autumnal classics. And when we all sit down (there’s only four of us most years, mind you) to this spread, which I am certain could feed an army of teenage boys with hearts in their stomachs, we are, all four of us, grateful. And on the years I spend Thanksgiving with my mother, and we have cranberry sauce from the can (which is considered something of blasphemy on my father’s side), stuffing made from jalapeno-cheddar cornbread, and a tiny turkey-- because we all know the side dishes are the best bit-- I am grateful. And it’s not the food-- it’s the preparation, and the time, and consideration, and the sitting down and enjoying time with my family regardless of their dysfunctions. It’s the arguing about whether we put on the parade or not, and the household full of Steelers jerseys (which is a complete anatopism considering I live in New Jersey), and it’s the way my brother clutches onto my leg when I walk through the door like the feline I am certain he is, and it’s the warmth that comes with giving family a little bit more time and recognition than usual.

Perhaps I’m partaking in a little bit of nationalist jingoism by standing up for a holiday which takes to baked poultry as its icon, and perhaps for some the only way to think of Thanksgiving is to think of an age of cultural deterioration and colonial expansion, and perhaps I am being insensitive towards that. But for me, and for many, Thanksgiving is worth so much more than its debatable history, and the festivities on that day represent a softer, more comforting feeling. I grew up making paper pilgrim hats and Indian headbands and being taught about the great feast these two groups shared in their "cordial" union, but then again I also grew up being told that if I told too many fibs eventually nobody would believe a thing I said and I’d be eaten by a wolf. So I can imagine such are just a few of the flawed methods of teaching that I hope further generations won’t be exposed to. As we learn more about history it does become harder to not take a cynical approach to every holiday and festivity, but this does not mean that there aren’t great aspects of these days as well.

Thanksgiving is more than a turkey and a botched history lesson, it’s the principle of being grateful and kind and taking a day to recognize the importance of a family, no matter how big or small or diverse. And so, with the last Thursday of November upon us, I can only hope we will put down the essays on cultural appropriation and turkey-based capitalism, and look up at the people who make our lives a little brighter, and even enjoy a little bit of turkey, or tofurkey, or turducken (or perhaps just stick to the potatoes).