Despite being a holiday rooted in a stone-cold historical myth constructed to provide an alibi for early settler treatment of indigenous Americans, I have always enjoyed Thanksgiving. As a child, I enjoyed it more than Christmas – which was typically dreary and gray in my native Nashville – but my enjoyment of Thanksgiving has grown as an adult. Now that I am rarely required to participate in dubious reenactments of the holiday’s self-serving origin myth, I can enjoy it for what it is: America’s only proper feast day, and it even comes with football.
