On
this Wednesday of Thanksgiving week, I’m thankful:
- That tomorrow and the next day I don’t have to work.
- For living to see another Thanksgiving Day.
- For pie.
- For potatoes.
- For the turkeys who unwillingly sacrificed their lives for the gluttonous joy of human carnivores like myself. (I’m sincerely sorry, turkey.)
- For the memories from childhood of watching “Willy Wonka” on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving morning. God, I love me some Gene Wilder and his sarcastic, biting tongue as Willy Wonka (“Stop, don’t, come back”), but it’s Charlie Bucket that has long held a dear place in my heart. I, too, had a paper route as a boy, and damn if I didn’t have a love affair with chocolate that I’m proud to say endures still. But most of all, I understood early on and appreciated the message that “Willy Wonka” offered up that good things can happen to anyone, no matter how many grandparents are sleeping in one bed in your house, no matter how god-awful the gruel you sip out of your spoon appearred to taste, and no matter bad Grandpa Joe’s damn tobacco must have stunk up that tiny room. God bless you, Charlie Bucket.
- For parades on TV.
- For board games.
- For Arlo Guthrie and the image he's given me year after year of Alice’s Restaurant.
- For my much-viewed copy of “The Last Waltz,” filmed on Thanksgiving and meant to always be played loud.
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