A Brief History of Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving, is that glorious American holiday where we gather to give thanks, eat until we feel like stuffed turkeys, and argue about politics with relatives. Unbeknownst to many, this holiday has a history as rich and lumpy as Aunt Margaret’s gravy. But before the mashed potatoes and televised parades, there was a rather awkward dinner party that kicked off the whole tradition.

 Let’s set the scene: picture for ourselves Plymouth, Massachusetts. The year is 1621, and the Pilgrims, (having survived a horrendous transatlantic journey that made Return of the King look like a beach vacation) were finally enjoying a decent harvest. They owed much of their survival to the Wampanoag people, who generously shared their agricultural wisdom. 

In gratitude, the Pilgrims decided to throw a feast. But being Puritans, their idea of a party involved boiled vegetables, solemn prayers, and possibly a hymn or two. They invited the Wampanoag people, who showed up with 90 guests and a much better understanding of how to throw a party. The guests brought venison, wild fowl, and other goodies.  They may have looked a bit amused when presented with a plate of boiled turnips, but they were polite guests and didn’t leave.

Now, contrary to popular myth, there was no pumpkin pie (no ovens), no cranberry sauce (no sugar), and the turkey was likely just one of many birds on the menu. In fact, the term “turkey” back then probably referred to any vaguely feathered creature that looked edible. It’s entirely possible someone roasted a seagull and called it fancy party fare.

The feast lasted three days, which is impressive considering the Pilgrims had no elastic waistbands. There were games, singing, and probably a few moments of cultural misunderstanding, like when someone tried to explain Puritan theology around the campfire. But overall, it was a rare moment of peace and shared humanity.

Fast forward to 1863, when President Abraham Lincoln, in the middle of the Civil War, decided the country needed a morale boost. He declared Thanksgiving a national holiday, presumably hoping that roast turkey might unite the Union. It was a bold move: “Let’s pause the bloodshed for pie,” he may have said, and Americans, being sensible at the moment, agreed.

From these humble beginnings, Thanksgiving evolved. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was born in 1924, originally featuring live animals from the Central Park Zoo. Nothing says “holiday spirit” like a confused giraffe on 34th Street.  And finally, there came the invention of canned cranberry sauce, a marvel of modern science that defies the laws of physics by retaining the shape of its tin can even after being released into the wild. It became a staple.

Today, Thanksgiving is a glorious blend of tradition, chaos, arguments, and carbohydrates. We honor the original feast by gathering with friends and family, expressing gratitude, and engaging in ritualized overeating. We watch football, pretend to enjoy green bean casserole, and argue over whether stuffing belongs inside the bird or in a separate dish (spoiler: it belongs wherever the cook says it does.)

And while the historical record is messy—full of contradictions, omissions, and the occasional roasted eel—the spirit of Thanksgiving endures. It’s about connection, survival, and the shared human experience of saying, “I’m too full, but I’ll have one more slice of pie.” So, raise a glass (or gravy boat) to the Pilgrims, the Wampanoag, and the long, strange journey that brought us to a holiday where gratitude and gluttony go hand in hand. Have a blessed Thanksgiving, and here’s hoping for another moment of peace and shared humanity.