A few reasons to give thanks

Thanksgiving provides an opportunity to reflect and revisit those nooks and crannies of our lives for which we are grateful. We pray like Pilgrims and dine like royalty. And this year, we spice the celebration with a dash of hope.

A gentler recipe, it would seem difficult to find.

With a cautious eye toward an unpredictable 2009, why not embrace the future knowing our grandparents survived far worse times in the past?

Personally, I find, as with a good cup of hot chocolate, my thankfulness full to the brim. And hope, as soft whipped cream, giving fragrance to its steam.

So let’s share a sip while mentioning some thanks and hopes.

Thanks to our federal government for bailing out large corporations. I hope that same professional courtesy is soon extended to my credit card accounts and faded parking citations.

This would keep a platoon of collection agents and parking enforcement bluecoats home with their kids during Advent rather than knocking on my door.

I love the tradition of the Detroit Lions playing on television every Thanksgiving. Especially this year, when they are 0-10 and desperately in need of a win. I hope the NFL scheduled them against Kansas State.

I love overtime games.

The traditional meal is always a favorite of mine, as I am certain it is yours. Turkey, dressing and pumpkin pie. I hope nobody brings that marshmallow and brown sugar topped pan concealing (ugh) yams underneath.

Why do some people insist upon insulting the spud family by digging up and dishing up their distasteful cousin the every fourth Thursday of November?

No one wants to eat a food that is orange. Unless it is one.

While we pause at this culinary juncture, let’s dump the cranberry sauce, too. Who eats it? Really. Yes, the purple goop can sit on our Thanksgiving table during the blessing prayer. It’s food. It qualifies.

But watch closely. Only one of your aunts, the one who can’t see well, will dip a little from the clear candy dish with little crystal berries on the rim (an antique, no doubt), and spread it on some Pillsbury dinner roll. So whomever brought it won’t feel bad.

Then never eat it. At meal’s end, the roll will get collected with the leftover yams and tossed to the dog.

The canine will jump gleefully toward the mash of unidentifiable foods as though he’s hungry, then - watch him now - the poor thing will scarf down everything but the yams and cranberries.

I hope we learn from our pets.

I am thankful the founders of the country decided to honor the eagle as our National bird. A focus of serious debate, this was. Franklin wanted the turkey. Thank goodness, he lost. I hope some modern-day reactionary legislator doesn’t take up old Ben’s cause.

Just imagine: "Gather round the table, children," Grandma calls. "Grandpa’s about the carve the eagle."

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Don Cunningham of Fremont is a regular contributor to the Tribune’s Opinion page.