Thanksgiving? Don’t do
us any favors, Sarah!

Robyn’s Hood
By Robyn McCloskey

I think we all pretty much know the origin of Thanksgiving. How way back in 1621 William Bradford, the reigning governor of Plymouth, decided to throw a shindig to celebrate the survival of Mayflower passengers who were fortunate enough to make it through a really rough winter.
The two-month Pilgrim voyage had started from England in 1620 with 102 passengers, who stayed on board the ship upon their arrival. Confronted by a brutal winter and contagious diseases, 49 of the passengers didn’t make it.
But the following year was brighter, thanks in particular to a plentiful harvest, and that was when the partying started.
I think Mr. Bradford was quite the optimist, willing to bankroll an event celebrating the fact that not everyone died. Plus, maybe it was an election year and he thought to himself, If I feed them they will vote. Like many a politician, he wanted to give credit where credit was due (Al Gore, take note) and invited the neighbors, who happened to be the entire Wampanoag tribe, the people who taught the Pilgrims how to survive in the first place.
This may all seem very altruistic, but I think ye olde William was still angling for more votes. Many a year later, another politician, George Washington, heard the story and thought it might make a nice start to the busy holiday season.
He even made a speech declaring it so: Now, therefore, I do recommend and assign that we pick a day in November when all banks, post offices and schools shall remain closed. Mothers shall work themselves in the kitchen to the point of exhaustion. Men shall either play football or watch it on television, whichever is easier on their arthritis. We shall then gather ’round the dining room table and gorge ourselves with an abundance of turkey, mashed potatoes and Stove Top stuffing. We shall also serve green beans swimming in cream-of-mushroom soup surrounded by those strange little crunchy onion thingies. Followed by coffee and pumpkin pie. And a nap.
Not to be outdone by the political scene-stealers before him, it was Abe Lincoln who declared Thanksgiving a federal holiday — thus ending a 40-year campaign by Sarah Josepha Hale, a widow and mother of five kids. Sarah also was an editor for Boston Ladies Magazine, the Good Housekeeping of its day, and a tireless champion for women’s rights to an education and a higher profile in public life.
Which is why I still can’t fathom why she’d want to push so hard for Thanksgiving. Why would a free-spirited woman — a pioneer in the movement for women’s rights — fight for the official observance of a holiday that makes women across the country slaves to the kitchen? A holiday that, to most of us, means hours of shopping and hours of cooking and hours of serving, not to mention hours of cleaning.
Sure, it’s spent with loved ones. But when you’re up to your elbows in mashed potatoes, or simply just about to keel over from exhaustion, most of us are in no shape to enjoy their presence.
Sarah, what were you thinking???
Once I’d become more familiar with the activism of this crusader (who died in 1879 and is buried in Philly), I’d thought she would’ve pushed for a holiday where we all check into a five-star hotel and have the concierge make dinner arrangements. My vision of a feast is being escorted to your seat at the hotel restaurant by the maitre d’ and then heading for a lovely time at the spa, where everyone receives complimentary facials and pedicures.
Now that’s a holiday worth fighting for.
Sarah is most famous for penning the classic children’s rhyme, Mary Had a Little Lamb. Not many people know she’d originally called it Sarah Had a Butterball Turkey, and it went a little something like this:
Sarah had a butterball, butterball, butterball
Sarah had a butterball it’s skin was brown and crisp.
She served it to her kids one day, kids one day, kids one day
She served it to her kids one day and they got really pissed.
Momma where’s our pet turkey, pet turkey, pet turkey?
Momma where’s our pet turkey?
Why kids you’re eating it!
Somehow the original version just never quite caught on, and we certainly know today that it was very smart of Ms. Hale to do a little tinkering and try it again as Mary Had a Little Lamb.
I guess there are many people to credit for what we now know as Thanksgiving. And I wish you all, dear readers, a happy one. On a more personal note, I would like to express how thankful I am for the wonderful family I get to share this day with, especially my sister-in-law, who hosts the festivities at her house.
Sarah, eat your heart out. ••
Robyn McCloskey’s column appears each week in the Northeast Times. She can be reached at crmccloskey@verizon.net