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The First Thanksgiving Family Feud

Historians all agree—the Pilgrim’s First Thanksgiving was a one-time event. It wasn’t turned into a yearly celebration until Abraham Lincoln made it official during the middle of the Civil War, almost 250 years later. A newly-discovered cache of papers composed by the original passengers of the Mayflower may explain why.

“Never again,” writes John Alden. “Six long hours we have spent looking at the hind end of a horse on the overly crowded road to the house of my parents and lo, for what? To see my brother with whom I barely speak and his harpy wyfe who so disrespecteth me and mine in a backhanded way? He starteth acting like a wee childe from the time we stepped from the carriage until the time we departed. He bringeth up small jealousies and grievances from our youth long ago. His unhappiness is like a contagion, a pustule that never heals. ‘Letteth it go and getteth a life,’ he has made me wish to scream, and more times than one.

“One unpleasantry follows another as I suffer my uncles and aunts to runneth on and on about my cousins—how well they are doing, how much money they are sending to their parents, what comely grandchildren they have produced. Yet I knoweth these same cousins. They would soil themselves if they were ever made to do a day’s work.

“They wish their parents dead and spend their days making plans to squander their inheritance in a warmer clime. Their small children hear not the word ‘no’ and understandeth not its meaning. They runneth around and screameth all day when peace and quiet is called for.

“And my wyfe cares not for the way my mother prepareth the meal. ‘She useth not oysters in the fowl’s stuffing,’ she rails at me. ‘She putteth not the bird in a paper bag in the hearth.’ It maketh me fatigued to hear such words. Yet Priscilla’s own stuffing would not winneth any prize, even in the land of my birth where they can taste not the difference between soup and soap. She knoweth not, but secretly I giveth my portions of her bounty to the hound beneath the table. It teacheth him not to beg.

“My wyfe speaks ill of none, yet I can tell from the bearing of her body that she would rather be ducking witches on a cold day in December than in the company of my family and their offspring. As if her family be a barrel of salted fish. Her sisters make it well known that their spouses buy them more kitchen tools than I, and that the corn from their labor is bigger and better than that of my own. They maketh my head hurt. Were they not aboard, the journey of the Mayflower could have been as a fun ship. With them, it was as the hate boat.

“It occurred to me suddenly that we may have left the wood stove on at home. Priscilla volunteered that it may be true as she had often noticed my forgetful habits. Happily, we fled the festivities. On the road home we sat in silence for many hours. ‘Let us hope we can do this again next year,’ at last I spoke. It got a hearty laugh as Priscilla knew I was in perfect jest. In truth, you could not make us do that again were two hundred and fifty years to pass. And for that we gave thanks.”

Ask Little Miss Know-it-all

D
ear Little Miss Know-It-All,

My fiancé and I want to hold our wedding in an historic, eighty-room castle in France and fly all our friends and family in for free. At the reception we want a twelve-course French meal served by waiters wearing outfits of my own design. The guests must wear all black or all white. I’ve already told my friends they can’t be bridesmaids unless they weigh under a hundred and two pounds.

The bad news is that my Dad says he won’t pay for it. He thinks we’re too young (sheesh, I’ll be twenty in three years). He said he’d pay for a wedding in our local church if we invite the same old boring friends and family we see every day. And only if my fiancé, Tommy, gets a job. What should I do?

—Why Me in Massachusetts

Dear Why Me,

Can’t you see that your control freak Dad is trying to wreck your life? You’ve got to get out of that house as soon as possible by marrying Tommy. He sounds dreamy. As soon as you’re married, you’ll find that all your problems will magically disappear. Suddenly you’ll be happy with the way you look and you’ll be comfortable with your weight. Everyone will suddenly like you, even those snobby kids at your old high school. I think you should pay for the wedding yourself by maxing out all your credit cards, yours and Tommy’s. Besides, after the wedding you won’t need any money, because you’ll have each other. Maybe your stupid father doesn’t know it, but it’s awell-known fact that the more money you spend on your wedding, the better your marriage will be. Don’t let anyone, especially your unbelievably stupid father, step on your dreams. I wouldn’t even invite him to the wedding.

Dear Little Miss Know-It-All,

I’m sixteen and I want to be a football star or a basketball star. Or maybe a golf legend. The problem is that my parents want me to apply to one of those colleges that barely even has a sports team, like Harvard or M.I.T. just because I get good grades. They want me to be a scientist or a professor. How do I convince them that being smart is a dumb career move?

—Concerned in Mineola

Dear Concerned,

Sometimes you wonder where parents get these silly ideas. A scientist. As if Nike is ever going to pay you millions of dollars to wear a swoosh logo on your lab coat.

Still, let’s get real. You may never become a thirty-million-dollar-a-year athlete. You may only be a five- or six-million-dollar-a-year athlete. If you don’t think you can live with that kind of bitter disappointment, you might as well go to Harvard. I suppose it can’t hurt.

Dear Little Miss Know-It-All,

I plan to win
American Idol
this year, but I’m worried about what to do with the million dollars after I win. You’re the only person I can talk to. Should I spend it on fancy cars, designer clothes and jewelry or should I just waste it on silly stuff? What do you think?

—Tired of Waiting

Dear Tired,

Spend it all, baby! And why wait until you win? Spend it now and pay it back after you win.

Dear Little Miss Know-It-All,

I met a guy on a computer dating service and he says he’d like to see me in person but he can’t afford to travel all the way. He lives two states away and he’s really cute. Should I send him the six hundred dollars he needs to get here and back, or not?

—Confused in Columbus

Dear Confused,

Is six hundred enough? He may think you’re cheap. Why not send him a thousand to show him what a nice person you are? He sounds like a nice guy, I’m sure he’ll pay you back. After all, you met him on a computer. What could go wrong? You know, it’s funny that he can afford a computer but not airfare. I don’t know what that’s all about, but I’m sure it will all become clear once you meet him.

The Storm of the Century

“Snow! There is a five percent chance of snow tomorrow!” There is a look of panic on the weatherman’s face. It’s as if he were announcing that car-sized balls of flaming magnesium mixed with nuclear waste were going to be falling out of the sky tomorrow. Snow! All plant and animal life will cease to exist.
Dancing with the Stars
may be postponed. And traffic will be a nightmare! Oh, the humanity!

“Snow! Sure, it’s the middle of winter in North America but who could have predicted a disaster like this? Snow! One to two inches expected! More in higher elevations! Some drifting may occur! Run for your lives!” Biff the weatherman is shaking. He forgot to kiss his wife and kids goodbye this morning and now this—two inches of snow expected! Will they ever see each other again?

Where Biff leaves off, the other reporters begin.

“Snow! What could be worse, Biff? A giant asteroid slamming into the Earth at 17,000 miles a second? A black hole swallowing the entire planet? Swearing live at the Grammy Awards? Why weren’t we warned about this months ago? Who’s to blame? The mayor? The governor? NASA? Stay tuned; Michelle and I will be interviewing the chief meteorologist of the National Weather Service to get the details on this totally unexpected disaster.

“Snow! Count your children! Fill a tub with fresh water! Run to a nearby grocery store and buy every single thing you can. Strip it clean; you never know when you’ll be able to get out of the house again. It may be hours, but then it may be
several
hours. Be prepared.

“Snow experts are advising people to stand away from their windows and shut the curtains. Watch the snow on TV and avoid the risk of snow blindness. We’ll be running a special report on snow blindness tonight right after
Celebrity Wart Removals
.

“And what about the possibility of avalanches? Dr. Maxwell D. Pushface of the National Center of Avalanche Spokespeople assures us that they rarely happen in flat parts of the country like ours, but that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. There’s always a first time.

“One tragic death has already been attributed to the coming snowstorm. One-hundred-and-fourteen-year-old Maude Fitzwilly was found dead in her living room on Elm Street earlier today, sitting in front of a television. Emergency service workers at the scene said snow panic syndrome may have contributed to her untimely demise. Bob and Michelle will be discussing snow panic syndrome, or SPS as it is known, with Dr. Carter T. Cuffman later in the show.

“And in a second snow-related incident, Byron Zmults of Hendersonville plowed his ’83 Dodge into a bridge abutment on Alabaster Road. Police say he was on his way to buy a few more cases of beer and some more marijuana so he wouldn’t have to leave his house during tomorrow’s storm. His blood-alcohol level was three times the legal limit, but Zmults said he never would have been driving on a suspended license if it hadn’t been a snow-related emergency.

“Later tonight, right after
When Cousins Marry
, we’ll be talking to Dr. D. Byron Latchkey, who says there are things called ‘coats’ and ‘hats’ that can actually be worn outside during a snowstorm. With all we know about snow nowadays, it’s hard to believe, but he says that once people used to go out in the snow and play in it and enjoy it.

“But that was back in the simple days before modern newscasting. We didn’t know then what we know now about killer snow. Did you know, for example, that no two flakes are alike? If that doesn’t say ‘Danger’ I don’t know what does. Actually, the government is now spending billions on a program to clone snowflakes so for the first time in history, we can have two snowflakes that are exactly alike, which may lead to ‘stackable snow,’ but right now that is just a theory.

“Stay tuned to our non-stop coverage of ‘The Killer Storm of the Millennium’ and you may be one of the lucky few to make it out alive.”

One Man’s Trash Is Another Man’s Garbage

“Do you have any idea what this ten-dollar bill is worth?”

“I have no idea. We never had it appraised. My dad gave it to me, like, a year ago. But it says 1973 on it so it must be worth something. That’s why we brought it to
Antiques Sideshow
.”

“Well, I have some good news and some bad news for you. The good news is, that at a well-advertised auction, it would bring ten dollars. Does that shock you?”

“Totally. Unbelievable! It’s amazing to think that something that old could be worth anything. My wife was going to throw it out but I said, ‘Whoa, that might still be worth two or three bucks.’”

“Now the bad news—it’s only worth 6.25 Euros. Or to put it another way, if you had bought ten Euros with this in 2002, it would now be worth $16. Does
that
surprise you?”

“Well, I guess it does. What is a Yuro? Some kind of car?”

“Thank you for coming. Now let’s go to Skip and Chad, the Furniture Twins, to see what they’ve discovered.”

“We’re here with Mavis Bucktooth and a Colonial highboy she’s brought in. Do you know anything about this piece, Mavis?”

“Not much. I think my grandmother bought it from some antique mall or something when they went out of business. All I know is that she wouldn’t let any of us kids play with it or kick it or put our cigarettes out on it. What a control freak. When she died, my brothers got all the good stuff, the liquor and the TV tables. All I got was this old piece of junk.”

“Let’s take a look at it. Skip, this secondary wood on the bottom of the drawers tells me that this was made in Boston, on Blueblood Street, I’m guessing here, but I would say in the 300 block.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Chad. As you can see from this delicate carving, it was made in either August or September 1763, probably on a Tuesday.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Skip. It does have some condition issues, though. Were you the one who painted it, Mavis? You did? Painting it high-gloss pink and adding sequins has lessened the value quite a bit. In its original condition, if it had all its original hardware, it would have been worth $120,000. As you have chain-sawed the legs off and replaced the original pulls with red Lego pieces, I would say, for insurance purposes, this is worth—are you ready? Minus forty dollars. Because if you leave it here, that’s what we’ll have to charge you to take it to the dump. Does that surprise you?”

“No, I knew Grandma wouldn’t leave me anything that was worth anything. She was a crazy old lady; her house was full of junk like this. We chopped it up and burned most of it.”

“Your host Charles St. John here. Could someone please revive the Furniture Twins and get them off the floor? Now we’ll hop to the Experts’ Table for some more quick appraisals.”

“Thank you, Charles. What we have here is a Ming Dynasty vase, certainly made for the Chinese royal family. I would say its value is somewhere in the 12 to 14 thousand dollar range.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s great. I can’t wait to tell . . . Ahhhhhh!”

“I was just about to tell him not to trip over Chad’s body. I don’t think that can be put back together. Maybe he can use the pieces to make a nice mosaic table for the patio, estimated value, eighty dollars.”

“This is a very nice Georgian silver service. Do you know its provenance?”

“Its what?”

“Its provenance, its story, its history. Where did it come from?”

“Oh, yeah, its provenance. It, ah, fell off a truck and Joey Stink Eye give it to me to pay off a loan.”

“I’d have it insured for . . .”

“Insured? I’m, how do you say, self-insured. How much would a fen . . . a third party give me for it, no questions asked?”

“Four thousand.”

“Joey, if you’re watching this, you still owe me two grand!”