Tag: Thanksgiving

The Butterfly Effect of Caution

Watch out for the turkey.

I heard this warning one fall as Thanksgiving approached.

I was quite young at the time – maybe 9 or 10. And I was perplexed.

You see, I wasn’t the biggest consumer of turkey back then. I preferred chicken.

But I sure feasted on the Thanksgiving turkey my relatives prepared each year. It was exquisitely roasted, neither too dry in texture nor too gamey in flavor. And it was perfectly carved.

It was everything I wanted at the center of my holiday plate. Why would I need to watch out for it?

My parents explained to me that the caution had nothing to do my relatives’ turkey. It was more about what was contained within all turkeys. Namely, an amino acid called Tryptophan.

Excessive Tryptophan makes you sleepy, they said. It exacerbates the food coma feeling that often overcomes Thanksgiving dinner guests.

These words didn’t quite land with me. After all, I had the metabolism of a hummingbird back then. I’d often watch television or play games with my cousins after the Thanksgiving meal was over. Midnight would approach and my energy would be nowhere near gone.

Turkey couldn’t possibly be the problem. No matter what anyone said.

My youthful innocence is long gone now. And so are my days consuming the Thanksgiving cornerstone.

I swore off turkey entirely in early adulthood. I no longer had any tolerance for its taste, no matter how it was roasted.

But even though I’ve heeded the advice of the naysayers, I don’t quite agree with the principle of it.

Turkey isn’t something we need to be wary of.

Not too long ago, I came across an article about which fruits best improve health.

Now, I’m no flagbearer for the clean eating movement. But the title was intriguing enough that I clicked through. (But not so intriguing that I saved the link. Apologies.)

The article went fruit by fruit, explaining each’s unique benefits. Much of this wasn’t news to me; I understood that berries were high in antioxidants and oranges had plenty of Vitamin C.

But when it came to bananas, something stopped me in my tracks. The article mentioned that the fruits provide a beneficial boost of tryptophan.

No way, I thought. Not because I was skeptical of the science. But more because I couldn’t imagine readers seeing tryptophan as a benefit.

Heck, I sure couldn’t.

The lore of the Thanksgiving Turkey Coma has taken over our society. It’s as much a part of the holiday narrative as family and football. And it’s turned tryptophan into a boogeyman ingredient.

In fact, tryptophan is so reviled that it sits on ingredient blacklists, alongside monosodium glutamate (MSG) and saturated fat. It deters health-obsessed diners, rather than attracting them.

For that reason, I was sure the article’s sales pitch for bananas would fall flat.

But we might be the ones who are bananas.

Yes, further research proved to me that we have tryptophan all wrong.

These amino acids, it turns out, are essential in creating serotonin. That’s the neurotransmitter impacting our moods, our pain tolerance, and yes, our sleep cycles. Without tryptophan in our bloodstream, we’d be a frazzled, unstable mess.

Fortunately, most of us don’t have this issue. For even if we’ve sworn off turkey, plenty of other foods contain tryptophan. Foods like chicken, eggs, fish, peanuts, milk, cheese, and – yes – bananas.

No matter our diet, the purported boogeyman ingredient has come for us. And we’re better for it.

It’s time we got the message.

Up in the mountain valleys of Utah live millions of followers of the LDS Church. Or Mormons, as they’re colloquially known.

Mormons live by a strict honor code. Alcohol, tobacco, coffee, and tea are forbidden by the church. Swearing is not permitted. Chastity is demanded until marriage.

For many of those outside of the LDS movement, these requirements seem a bit mind-boggling. Myself included.

I don’t smoke, and I’ve been sober for years. But I can’t imagine going a week without a cup of coffee or a four-letter word.

Yet, I defy this code of conduct with unease. I occasionally find myself wondering if those following the LDS Honor Code have it all right, and I have it all wrong.

The answer is far from straightforward.

You see, many Mormons live prosperous lives without a caffeine jolt or the chance to cuss someone out. But many non-Mormons live equally prosperous lives with those elements woven in.

The key to prosperity, it seems, is not necessarily bequeathal. Instead, it’s moderation.

It’s possible to thrive while drinking a cup of joe a day, rather than four. It’s possible to be considered classy, even if a swear word passes our lips now and then (but no more often than that).

Moderation is an art, not a science. We can leave our own mark – much the way Picasso and Rembrandt left unique brushstrokes on the canvases they graced.

The problem is that many of us are more Pollack or Rauschenberg than Picasso. Our grasp on moderation is nonexistent. It’s all or nothing.

This is how the lore of the Thanksgiving Turkey Coma can take root. We’d rather cast out the amino acid that causes us to doze off than consider how we can enjoy it more responsibly. We’d rather abstain than restrain.

I call this the Butterfly Effect of Caution. And it’s a serious problem.

For it leads us to blow things out of proportion. To stop in our tracks needlessly. To take a machete to what demands a scalpel.

The truth is there’s often a fair deal of good in what we label as bad. There are benefits in the balance.

But our turn toward sensationalism can keep those treasures beyond our grasp. It can turn lizards into Godzilla, computers into Skynet, and tryptophan into the boogeyman.

Yes, The Butterfly Effect of Caution causes us to lose more than we stand to gain. But we still have the power to choose a new path. A more moderate path.

We can let loose now and then without sabotaging our air of professionalism. We can hit the gym without provoking a world of pain.

And we can take a few bites of turkey, rather than resigning ourselves to imminent slumber.

The choice is ours.

So, let’s set that butterfly free.

Turkey and Tradition

It’s like clockwork.

Every year, as mid-November approaches, the temperatures drop, the leaves fall, and we focus our gaze on a particular type of bird.

I’m talking, of course, about the turkey.

Turkeys exist all over this land — on farms and in the wild. And most of the year, we hardly notice their presence. But as Thanksgiving approaches, we can’t stop thinking about them.

Just about every ad we see this time of year features some sort of turkey pun. The supermarkets are overloaded with packaged birds, ready to cook. And social media is rife with advice for brining, frying, or otherwise roasting a turkey for the holiday.

Few other animals get this treatment — a day where they’re on the menu nationwide and garner all our attention. Turkeys are unique in that way.

But should they be?

As a kid, I was always enamored by Thanksgiving. It was a holiday my family would spend with relatives who we didn’t see often. And it was bereft of most of the burden of customs or religious connotations that Halloween and Christmas had, respectively.

That said, there were some notable staples of the holiday. Most notably, the menu.

There was little freelancing when it came to Thanksgiving fare. Households were expected to serve mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, gravy, dressing, and turkey.

I have no idea where this menu came from. Few, if any, of those dishes were in existence at the time of the first Thanksgiving feast in the 1600s.

Yet, these delicacies had reached critical mass. They seemed to be the only items people would talk about. And they were the only dishes Americans were expected to serve.

I was a picky eater growing up, so most of the vegetables, sides, and sauces didn’t appeal to me. That left turkey as my go-to option.

I would wake up on Thanksgiving morning thinking about the turkey feast to come. By the time the evening arrived, I was practically salivating at the sight of the carved bird on the table.

Still, as I sank my teeth into that first bite, I would inevitably find myself disappointed.

The bird itself wasn’t the problem. It was always prepared to perfection.

No, the problem was that I just did not much like turkey. It was too gamey for my liking, and the tryptophan within it would make me sleepy.

At first, I struggled with this disconnect. How could I reject the crown jewel of Thanksgiving dinner? I tried to bury my feelings, only for them to re-emerge a year later.

Eventually, I relented. I accepted that I didn’t like turkey and possibly never would. As such, I stopped loading my plate with it at Thanksgiving dinner.

I started preparing a brisket for Thanksgiving around this time. I did this simply so that there would be a dish on the table that I’d be excited to eat.

But as it turned out, my brisket was almost as big a hit as the turkey itself. My relatives lined up to try it. There were no leftovers to bring home, only requests that I bring more brisket next year.

So, the following year, I did. And the year after that. And the year after that.

I might have broken with the Thanksgiving gospel, but in doing so, I’d forged a new, more resonant tradition.

Who are the arbiters of the customs we follow?

Often, religious organizations come to mind. Or maybe government entities. Or even social entities, such as neighborhood groups.

Each of these structures has the power of trust, a broad following, and mass communication abilities. Yet, they each also have the downsides of preachiness and rigidity.

When you factor in the retail industrial complex, customs get fossilized. We live in a capitalist society, and businesses depend on norms to stay profitable and keep the economy afloat.

Ultimately, this all leads to a one-two punch. A form of authority establishes expectations, and retailers tell us what to buy to stay in compliance.

This is what creates our strict system of traditions, including the Thanksgiving turkey feast. It’s not an organic, grassroots process. It’s heavily manufactured.

The end effect matches a scene from the movie Mean Girls. The protagonist, Cady Heron, is invited to sit with the pretentious clique The Plastics in the school lunchroom for the rest of the week. As part of the impromptu invite, she’s given some instructions, including how to dress.

On Wednesdays, we wear pink, says Karen Smith, one of the Plastics.

Sometimes, I think traditions can be like this. Maybe they started out innocuous enough, but they evolve into On Thanksgiving, we eat turkey.

This latent expectation might not seem like a big deal, but its burden can carry a long shadow. In the case of Thanksgiving, turkeys are bulky, costly, and challenging to prepare. Turkeys — along with the rest of the holiday’s staples — fail to cater to the needs of those with dietary restrictions. And the entire idea of a feast can be cumbersome to those without large living spaces or families.

It’s no wonder that the joyful anticipation of holidays like Thanksgiving is all too often supplanted by feelings of dread. Our pursuit of a shared experience comes with strings attached.

But it doesn’t need to.

As we head into another holiday season, something has changed.

That something is us.

Living through the horrors of a global pandemic, the gut-punch of an economic recession, and the social unrest of a society in transition has not been a pleasant experience. But it has been an enlightening one.

Throughout all the turmoil, we’ve been forced to reassess what we’ve taken as gospel. Some traditions, customs, and norms that were once non-negotiable are now anything but.

Thanksgiving dinner can be one of those traditions.

Yes, we should still gather to celebrate. But maybe we can do so in our own way, and on our own terms.

That could mean Thanksgiving without a predefined menu of sides. That could mean Thanksgiving without a massive guest list. And that could even mean Thanksgiving without turkey.

Indeed, as I write this, I’m preparing for a Thanksgiving feast with all these adaptations. It will be a smaller, more intimate gathering, devoid of an excess of side dishes. And instead of a large turkey —or my brisket — there will be a beef roast.

The burden of old traditions has been lifted. And I couldn’t be more thankful for that.

Honor In Humility

Thanksgiving is just around the corner. And as longtime Words of the West readers know, I’m not one to gloss over that fact.

No, while many are excited to get a jump on their holiday shopping or decorate their homes in lights, I’m very much in the moment.

Thanksgiving means more than Family, Food and Football. It means reflecting on all we have to be thankful for.

It’s about gratitude. It’s about appreciation. It’s about humility.

These aren’t emotions we naturally wear on our chest. Mac Davis once sang “Lord, it’s hard to be humble,” and we’ve done little to dispute that claim since then. The rapid rise of tech entrepreneurs and the myth of the self-made man have fooled us into believing that success is solely in our hands.

It’s not.

Truth be told, many people play a supporting role in our life’s work. It starts with our parents, who take care of us when we’re too young to do so ourselves. It continues with our teachers, who help us expand our mind. Then come friends and significant others, who lift us up on an emotional level. And finally, there are all those who provide us opportunities, and allow us to build the life we want.

Think we’d be where we are without any of this? No chance.

Yet, we find it difficult to admit this. At least publicly.

I’m not sure why that is. Is it ego? Pride?

Regardless of the answer, Thanksgiving gets us back to our senses.

It reminds us that there’s actually great honor in humility. In being introspective on our own vulnerability and appreciative of all those who led us through the fire.

It demonstrates that we’re all part of something bigger. That our stories are intertwined and those connections are what truly matter.

I wish we took the time to recognize these principles more than once a year. That allowed ourselves to be vulnerable. To be grateful. To put others first.

But as it is, I’m glad there’s a moment between Halloween Candy and Christmas Trees when we can do all this. When we can rediscover the honor in humility and share it with the ones who matter to us most.

This year, let’s make sure that moment doesn’t pass us by.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Gratitude Through Turmoil

The holidays are here once again. As we prepare to feast on copious amounts of food, reconnect with loved ones and stress about shopping, a sense of finality is starting to set in.

Yes, although the calendar makers might not have gotten everything right — 30 days have September, April, June and November? Are you kidding me?! —they at least had the common decency to ensure the holiday season puts a tidy bow on the year.

As holidays ramp up, it’s natural to count our blessings. That’s what Thanksgiving was originally about, and it remains a central theme throughout the entire holiday season (along with lights, Santa hats and caroling).

However, I sense something different this time around. In the wake of a particularly trying year — one that has culminated in the most contentious election of our lifetime — a sense of angst has seemingly replaced that of gratitude.

This is far from unexpected. Division and mistrust have been central themes from coast to coast this year, often resulting in anger and violence. We’ve seemingly spent more time pointing the finger at others than we’ve spent trying to heal our fractured society. And we’ve given no indications that we plan on finding collective solutions to these problems anytime soon.

All of this is discouraging. But what upsets me the most is seeing people I look up to sitting in the corner with their head in their hands.

Too many of us are giving up. And that’s unacceptable.

I’ve put myself through the fire multiple times throughout my life, and I know that the moments that test our mettle are the ones that define us. It’s not about being backed into a corner; it’s about how we respond.

Those of us who believe in morality, acceptance and empathy have had a rough go of it recently. This is clear. And the principles of collectivism and inclusiveness have never seemed more like a pipe dream fantasy.

However, we should stop looking at the glass as half-empty. Even in times of turmoil, there is much that’s worthy of our gratitude.

We should be thankful that we hold the principle of decency dear in our hearts. That we pass them along to our children. That we live what we preach.

And we should appreciate that our collective predicament presents a giant opportunity. An opportunity to live our lives righteously, as we have always done. An opportunity to lead by example. And an opportunity to slowly get our society back to one that espouses values that connect and strengthen, rather than divide and weaken.

There is much work to be done. But we have the power to do it.

For that, we should be eternally grateful.

Be Thankful

Thanksgiving is almost upon us. It’s a holiday traditionally dominated by the 3 F’s: Family, Food and Football. But in recent years, it’s become more of an afterthought.

Indeed, many people seem to view Thanksgiving as the day to beat the holiday shopping rush. Others simply use the holiday to fuel up for the next morning’s mall mayhem.

It gets worse. If you’ve been looking at store decorations and ads lately, you’ve surely noticed the holiday season began on November 1st. While I love the holidays as much as anyone, hearing Let It Snow and Jingle Bells while the leaves are still on the trees in the South just feels wrong. Seeing one of our nation’s most significant holidays get swept under the rug because of this leaves me just as uneasy.

It seems we’ve conveniently forgotten the purpose of Thanksgiving. While we deserve credit for using the holiday season to brighten spirits and be good to one another, we shouldn’t bypass a day designated for us to show gratitude. After all, Thanksgiving not only predates our nation, but it’s also pivotal in terms of us having a nation.

The first Thanksgiving was put on by the Puritans in present-day Massachusetts, as show of gratitude towards the native population. When these settlers arrived from England, they were unprepared for the region’s cold winters and didn’t know how to farm efficiently. Although the natives in the area were apprehensive of having a strange group of people in their area, they helped the Puritans survive — which is what inspired the now-traditional feast.

The world has changed a lot since that time. British colonies eventually sprung up across the east coast, followed by the independence of our nation and the expansion of that nation across the continent. All of this likely wouldn’t have happened if the native population hadn’t helped a freezing and famished group of settlers survive, and if those settlers hadn’t expressed their gratitude with a communal feast.

It’s important to remember that, even as we’ve done our best to forget. Today across Oklahoma, there are plenty of reservations and casinos, along with bars that sell watered down beer by law. None of that is a coincidence. As a nation, have not been kind to those who were so gracious to our forefathers, those who deserve better than to have been exploited, relocated and forgotten.

It’s time to bring back that spirit we’ve long forgotten. It’s time to show gratitude for what we have and for those we have around us. It’s time to display the values we stand for as a nation, and show what makes our culture so great.

It’s time to Be Thankful.