Thursday, November 26, 2009

DeNae's Month o' Gratitude, Day Twenty-six

Well, my novel has taken an unexpected turn. While it started out as a light-hearted murder-mystery, filled with misadventures and cheerful mayhem, it has descended into a grim and seething expose on the dark underbelly of the world of mimes and trapeze artists. The research alone is terrifying. Joseph Conrad thought he had penetrated the "Heart of Darkness", but that's only because he never spent a weekend interviewing a white-faced guy dressed in a body stocking.

26: I'm thankful for THANKSGIVING! That's right, today's the day! And I am so excited, let me tell you! Between my mother's rolls and my mother-in-law's stuffing, there's plenty of reason to break out my Nacho Libre stretchy pants and dig in. Dinner today is going to be the bessssst.

Earlier this year I learned that I am a direct descendant of Isaac Allerton, a signer of the Mayflower Compact and eventual governor of Plymouth colony.

So the chances are pretty good that he was right there at that first Thanksgiving, scarfing down mashed potatoes with his pants unzipped while watching his favorite football team get stomped on cable.

(Doubting the authenticity of my speculations, are you? Well, tell me, Mr slash Miz Sassafrass: Was YOUR ancestor on the Mayflower? Was he? All righty then. Shut up.)

Therefore, having recently discovered my noble heritage, I feel a great deal of responsibility to set the record straight on just what went down on the first Thanksgiving. Knowing that Mr. Allerton and I share the same gene pool makes deducing the events of that three-day feast much easier.

First, the turkey came out dry, because Portia or Patience or one of those equally unfortunately named pilgrimesses was so busy watching the Macy's parade she forgot the all important task of basting. But in fairness to Perdita or whoever, that parade was quite a spectacle, given that the benefits of helium in keeping giant Snoopy balloons afloat wouldn't be discovered for another 300 years. All those volunteers standing beneath the monstrosity and 'blowing real hard' would have been difficult to ignore.

Then, the party nearly broke into a severe turf war over the proper preparation of certain root vegetables, and might well have ended in bloodshed had not the chief of the Marshmallogonquins been persuaded to smoke a peace pipe with the chief of the BrownSugarAndCinnamonoles. (It helped that the pipe in question was provided by the small but always popular Hempache tribe.)

Finally, when the last slice of "I can't remember, did that berry kill anyone last time we used it?" pie was polished off, and everyone was dozing under the narcotic spell of the chemical found in turkey that makes you sleepy (I think it's called "Nyquil"), a few forward thinking Plymouth-ites ran down to the local Kinko's and printed off a couple dozen ads for discounted Blu-ray players and other 'early bird specials', thereby creating that most time-honored of all Thanksgiving traditions:

Practicing your Mixed Martial Arts moves on fellow shoppers over the last Wii at Wal Mart.

I'm telling you, it makes you proud to be a Puritan-American.


wonder woman said...

Wow. I feel like I was actually there. I had no idea so many of our Thanksgiving traditions actually came from the pilgrims, I wish I had genes that remembered like yours do.

enjoy the day!

Kristina P. said...

I am thankful for you making me laugh. Have a great Thanksgiving.


The Garden of Egan said...

Ah DeNae, I love ya!
So proud to know an actual owner of Mayflower DNA descendancy! I have to quit typing now so I can wipe a tear.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family. Enjoy the unzipped pants.
You are the best.
Are you coming to pick up your Idaho offspring in Dec? Let me know.

wendy said...

That was a great piece of history.

I didn't have anyone on the Mayflower that I know of, but one of my ancestors helped escort Marie Antoinette to the guillotine. (does that count) not very American
but hey, I'm Canadian

and I haven't passes a peace pipe- but have smoked drift wood

Motherboard said...

I am a direct descendant of William Bradford... first Mayor of the Plymouth Colony.

My ancestor can beat up your ancestor!

(and, we totally stomped you in the annual puritan football game!)

Kazzy said...

My parents are first-generation Americans so there is absolutely no puritan blood in me. Dang it.

Brooke said...

I'm sure that was a great post, but you stopped me at Nachooooooo . . .

Have you ever had feelings for a nun?

Don't you know I have had diarrhea since Easters?

Chancho, I need to borrow some sweats.

When you are a man, sometimes you wear stretchy pants in your room. Just for fun.

**I LOVE that movie!**

Lynne's Somewhat Invented Life said...

I saw a movie like this once. I think it had the words "National" and "Lampoons" in it.