It all starts out so well. The gift radar turns on in October and by Thanksgiving I've got a great start.
I’ve made a list, checked it several times and even placed a few online orders. But I’m still feeling the pressure of getting the right gifts. Some people just have a question mark next to their name, meaning I can’t make any progress until I figure out what to give. Other people are so easy to buy for that I have to hold myself back.
The way the holiday issues of magazines push last-minute, homemade and inexpensive gifts, you wouldn't think anyone planned ahead, drove to a store and paid retail. They're filled with quick and easy "crafts" that would give Martha Stewart the dry heaves and plenty of ideas for "Great Gifts for Under $10." Yes, it is possible to do all your Christmas shopping at 7-11! But then how will you look those recipients in the eye when you know all their friends have heard the uproarious story of your Doritos gift basket?
I'm all for bargain hunting. Heck, I saved an amazing $74.59 at the supermarket last week using the Club Card and coupons. Of course, they were having a wine promotion that skewed the results. (Hey, I need to stock up for the holidays!) But when it comes to family and friends, it's time to bite the bullet and get something that they can return without being told, "That didn't come from here" or "This item was discontinued in the '90s. Hey, Myrna, come and take a look at this!"
Even if the gifts you receive are obvious pass-alongs, or come from thrift shops, rummage sales or the back of the giver's own junk closet, you can still take the moral high ground with a well-thought-out gift from a real store (on- or off-line) with a gift receipt. Unless you know that the recipient of your gift is into "vintage," you can knit like Monica Lewinsky, or you really can craft with flair, better to skip the homemade approach and do the right thing.
Originally published November 7, 2007
Alternative Turkey Preparations
Turkey in a Trashcan
This how-to video gives you step-by-step instructions on how to cook a full-size turkey in your backyard using, yes, a metal trashcan. That "lovely assistant" sure is a downer!
Kinky Turkey Flogging
This guy insists on only the tenderest and most submissive of turkeys.
Fire in the Hole
The oven is on fire, the alarm is blaring--and the turkey is raw. Think Martha Stewart could pull that off?
Turkey Drop
A 14-pound turkey with is dropped into turkey fryer filled with boiling oil causing - no surprise here! - a fireball. Don't try this at home. Or anywhere. Any time. Ever.
Thanksgiving Politicking
Guest blogger Jillian Ashley Blair Ivey shares her Bush II-era Thanksgiving memories.
During my freshman year of college I was 2000 miles away from my hometown and completely without any family in the area. My Thanksgiving plans entailed going to New York and spending the holiday weekend with a friend and her relatives. When a combination of laryngitis and acute homesickness put me on a last-minute flight to Texas instead, my friend promised that the invitation for Thanksgiving dinner would still be open the following year. I took her up on it.
At the time, New York still held a bit of mystique for me. I’d been living in Philadelphia for a little over a year by that point, making frequent weekend trips up to the Big Apple. I’d shopped on Fifth Avenue; I’d seen shows on Broadway; I’d been in a rowboat in Central Park; I’d hailed my own taxi. But I hadn’t quite figured out how people could actually live in New York. I felt small and slow and quiet. I needed to take a breath before emerging from Penn Station. This Thanksgiving would give me an opportunity to see how real New York life was lived.
I did not know until I got to my friend’s parents’ apartment, just a few blocks off of Lincoln Center, that I would not actually be experiencing a real New York Thanksgiving, but rather a real North Jersey Thanksgiving. We traveled just over the bridge to a town filled with ex-Manhattanites who’d decided they needed lawns or bigger closets. This is where my friend’s parents’ oldest friends now lived. And on the surface, it was an idyllic setting for a real, old-fashioned Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t get my cramped, Manhattan meal, but maybe I could hope for a slice of Norman Rockwell.
No.
I may not have been in New York, but I was still amongst New Yorkers. As a Texan, I was regarded as a bit of a novelty at the dinner table. There are no Bloomingdale’s in El Paso, Texas. No Neiman Marcuses or Saks Fifth Avenues. We had a Macy’s but it was brand new. Theater tended to be of the community variety, with the occasional touring company coming through. I love my hometown, but suddenly it felt so … pedestrian. But still, I knew the questions I was asked were borne of curiosity and not rudeness. I was a guest, and made to feel welcome. At least until the conversation turned to politics.
Although New York City had, by that point, had Republican mayors for almost a decade, the city is generally regarded as a Democratic one. My friend’s family and their friends certainly voted blue. It was 2003, two years and change after September 11. While possibly popular with New Yorkers for five minutes after visiting Ground Zero, the second President Bush was doubtless amongst New Yorkers’ least-beloved public figures by this dinner. And he had served as governor in my home state for five years before becoming president. General consensus at the table was that Bush was a bad president; this was expressed in ways varying from a call for impeachment to a call for his head. Suddenly, I felt all eyes on me: “Jill, you’re from Texas. What do you think of the president?”
There was absolutely no correct way to answer that question, so I answered around it: “I think that I spend too much time studying to pay much attention to politics.”
“Don’t you have an opinion?”
“Not one I feel qualified to share.”
The room was quiet, but I was raised not to discuss politics in polite company, whether I agreed with them or not (and I did, in some regards) and so I wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. I think everyone at the table finished eating as quickly as possible, just to get away from the awkwardness.
The next Thanksgiving, I had dinner with friends in Philadelphia.
During my freshman year of college I was 2000 miles away from my hometown and completely without any family in the area. My Thanksgiving plans entailed going to New York and spending the holiday weekend with a friend and her relatives. When a combination of laryngitis and acute homesickness put me on a last-minute flight to Texas instead, my friend promised that the invitation for Thanksgiving dinner would still be open the following year. I took her up on it.
At the time, New York still held a bit of mystique for me. I’d been living in Philadelphia for a little over a year by that point, making frequent weekend trips up to the Big Apple. I’d shopped on Fifth Avenue; I’d seen shows on Broadway; I’d been in a rowboat in Central Park; I’d hailed my own taxi. But I hadn’t quite figured out how people could actually live in New York. I felt small and slow and quiet. I needed to take a breath before emerging from Penn Station. This Thanksgiving would give me an opportunity to see how real New York life was lived.
I did not know until I got to my friend’s parents’ apartment, just a few blocks off of Lincoln Center, that I would not actually be experiencing a real New York Thanksgiving, but rather a real North Jersey Thanksgiving. We traveled just over the bridge to a town filled with ex-Manhattanites who’d decided they needed lawns or bigger closets. This is where my friend’s parents’ oldest friends now lived. And on the surface, it was an idyllic setting for a real, old-fashioned Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t get my cramped, Manhattan meal, but maybe I could hope for a slice of Norman Rockwell.
No.
I may not have been in New York, but I was still amongst New Yorkers. As a Texan, I was regarded as a bit of a novelty at the dinner table. There are no Bloomingdale’s in El Paso, Texas. No Neiman Marcuses or Saks Fifth Avenues. We had a Macy’s but it was brand new. Theater tended to be of the community variety, with the occasional touring company coming through. I love my hometown, but suddenly it felt so … pedestrian. But still, I knew the questions I was asked were borne of curiosity and not rudeness. I was a guest, and made to feel welcome. At least until the conversation turned to politics.
Although New York City had, by that point, had Republican mayors for almost a decade, the city is generally regarded as a Democratic one. My friend’s family and their friends certainly voted blue. It was 2003, two years and change after September 11. While possibly popular with New Yorkers for five minutes after visiting Ground Zero, the second President Bush was doubtless amongst New Yorkers’ least-beloved public figures by this dinner. And he had served as governor in my home state for five years before becoming president. General consensus at the table was that Bush was a bad president; this was expressed in ways varying from a call for impeachment to a call for his head. Suddenly, I felt all eyes on me: “Jill, you’re from Texas. What do you think of the president?”
There was absolutely no correct way to answer that question, so I answered around it: “I think that I spend too much time studying to pay much attention to politics.”
“Don’t you have an opinion?”
“Not one I feel qualified to share.”
The room was quiet, but I was raised not to discuss politics in polite company, whether I agreed with them or not (and I did, in some regards) and so I wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. I think everyone at the table finished eating as quickly as possible, just to get away from the awkwardness.
The next Thanksgiving, I had dinner with friends in Philadelphia.
Thanksgiving in the Olden Days (Videos)
Home Movie: Thanksgiving 1957
Ah, the old days. Everyone dresses in their nicest clothes for Thanksgiving. They start with a prayer, then it's time to chow down, followed by dancing. So nice and quiet, too.
A Rootie Tootie Thanksgiving Special
A time capsule from the early days of TV: a 1950 Thanksgiving special. Check out those credits! Aging Baby Boomer Ira Gallen has spent more than 30 years collecting and restoring old 16mm & 35mm films and Kinescopes.
Thanksgiving Dinner 1962
Breaking out a movie camera was a lot bigger deal in 1962 than it is now. It also involved a blinding light, developing the film and a whole production with a very loud projector and a screen to play it back.
1985 Flashback
Thanksgiving 1985: From back in the day when the kids lined up and stood still for the video and only the camera moved.
A Day of Thanksgiving
A classic old black-and-white short film (although it feels v e r y long) about the real meaning of Thanksgiving. And acting lessons. And cinematography.
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