As many American families sit down at the table tomorrow, faced with the prospect of eating too much food, relatively few of them will be wondering how much turkey will be consumed around the country.
But occasionally, someone will try to interrupt the unpleasant argument between Uncle Jeff and Aunt Susie — about why Donald Trump should or shouldn’t be a candidate for president — by saying something like, “Does anyone know how many pounds of turkey Americans will eat this Thanksgiving?”
At this point, several people will pull out their phones and do a Google search for the correct answer.
Spoiler alert: there is no correct answer. Some websites claim that about 600 million pounds of turkey will be served this year, while other websites put the number at 690 million pounds, or even 705 million pounds.
This will no doubt set off another argument, just as unrewarding as the one about Donald Trump.
But they will be arguing about the amount that appears on American tables, not the amount that actually gets eaten. Only rarely does the entire bird get eaten at the first sitting.
Usually, it takes several days of turkey sandwiches and other creative culinary adventures to get rid of leftovers. Turkey soup is an obvious choice, but other inventive dishes include turkey casserole, turkey burritos, turkey pizza, turkey curry, turkey quiche, turkey egg rolls, turkey tetrazzini, turkey empanadas, turkey salad, and — for those talented individuals who can manage a proper pie crust — turkey pot pie.
One dish you might want to avoid: turkey brownies. Or so I’ve been told.
Regardless of our creative choices, we end up sick and tired of turkey. At this point, we find ourselves wondering why we bought a 15-pound bird in the first place. Couldn’t they make smaller turkeys? Look what they’ve done with electronics, especially computers.
A growing number of American families have solved the ‘leftovers’ problem by rejecting the whole idea of Thanksgiving, and celebrating an alternate annual event on the fourth Thursday in November: the National Day of Mourning, which first took place in Plymouth, Massachusetts in 1970, as “a day of remembrance and spiritual connection as well as a protest of the racism and oppression which Native Americans continue to experience.”
No turkey required.
Of course, my cat, Roscoe, will demand his traditional can of Friskies Turkey Dinner in Gravy. But cats understand nothing about political protests.
Speaking personally, I haven’t bought a turkey since my divorce. If people ask me, “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I mention the National Day of Mourning and they quickly change the subject.
Am I missing out? That’s always a concern, when you reject a cherished social tradition, for this or that reason, which in my case is mainly to avoid getting invited to my ex-wife’s house for Thanksgiving dinner. “But Louis, the kids will be there. They’re still your kids too, you know.”
Also, I don’t like cranberries.
Or political arguments among ex-in-laws. (Uncle Jeff and Aunt Susie, in particular.)
So I will be sitting in front of the TV, with nice cold beer and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and Roscoe on the couch beside me, contented.
Maybe there will be live coverage of the protests in Plymouth, Massachusetts.