The year was 1621. Near the coastline, a seafarer’s voice rose above the rest as he proclaimed his catch. “Eel!” The man displayed the sopping fish proudly, prodding the man next to him. His grin shone nearly as bright as the buckles on his shoes. “My, won’t this be the heart of our meal?” The next day, the man proudly arranged the eel on the table. Taking a step back to get a better view of his contribution, his eyes caught on motion. For a moment, his heart leapt to his throat and he stared at the eel. It’s alive?! After an uneventful pause, he glanced up to see a flock of turkeys streaming through the clearing. He shook his head, equally perturbed about his quick assumption as he was amused by the birds. Shaking his head again, he murmured, “Those fowls…”
Of course, there are incongruencies between the scene I pitched and the true Thanksgiving of November, 1621. For instance, historians can only deduce that seafood dominated the fare of the meal based on a first hand account by colonist Edward Windslow regarding the annual abundance of life in the bay. He wrote, “Our bay is full of lobsters all the summer and affordeth variety of other fish; in September we can take a hogshead of eels in a night with small labor, and can dig them out of their beds all the winter. We have mussels… at our doors. Oysters we have none near, but we can have them brought by the Indians when we will” (HISTORY).
Another deduction, while not incongruent with my narrative, must be addressed. This being, of course, whether or not turkey graced the table. For a fact, four men were sent “on a ‘fowling’ mission in preparation for the three-day event” (HISTORY). It’s surmised that fowl like duck, geese, and perhaps carrier pigeons or swans were part of the meal, but turkeys may have not been a part of the fare at all (FOOD52). In addition, “The birds were probably stuffed with onions and nuts instead of the bread cubes and sausage more familiar to us today, then boiled or roasted” (FOOD52).
Incongruencies and deductions aside, in order to properly tie our bibs and take a seat at the first Thanksgiving meal, one must stand in the buckled shoes of a settler. The meal was much more than a simple feast; it was a celebration in the midst of all the hardships the colonists were going through and had gone through, the hard path through what had been won and lost.
To see that, we’ll follow the story of our fictitious eel-catching friend, who we will name Charles. Let’s assume that Charles was a poor stained glass artist in Birmingham, England. Charles was courting a fine lady, Mary, before the courtship was broken off by Mary’s father, who impressed upon him that Mary would start courting Charles’ rich competitor. Then free of the burdensome obligations he had been subject to before, Charles invested his meager amount of money to voyage overseas to the land of plenty, ready to embrace the frontier as a lone man on the brink of a brighter future.
From there, Charles miraculously survived the maladies that plagued the settlers on the Transatlantic voyage. After months smothered by the smell of suffering and death, imagine his surprise as he finally reached his destination: Plymouth. Yet the troubles did not end there, and by the time November of 1621 came around, the colonists had previously experienced a harsh year where, “Seventy-eight percent of the women who had traveled on the Mayflower had perished that winter, leaving only around 50 colonists to attend the first Thanksgiving. According to eyewitness accounts, among the pilgrims, there were 22 men, just four women and over 25 children and teenagers” (HISTORY).
Due to their small numbers, the colonists graciously accepted an alliance with the Wampanoag Native Americans. “Early on, the settlers repelled an attack by Native American warriors—muskets against arrows, in a skirmish that presaged the continent’s future. Yet, in March, a lone Indian warrior named Samoset appeared and greeted the settlers, improbably, in English. Soon, the Pilgrims formed an alliance with the Wampanoags and their chief, Massasoit. Only a few years before, the tribe had lost 50 to 90 percent of its population to an epidemic borne by European coastal fisherman. Devastated by death, both groups were vulnerable to attack or domination by Indian tribes. They needed each other” (HUMANITIES). This mutual relationship resulted in 90 Wampanoags and Massasoit, attending the first Thanksgiving meal with the settlers and contributing five deer to the meal (HISTORY).
While my family doesn’t eat deer during Thanksgiving, we have our own traditions, whether that be chiming in as we say grace or lighting a candle after giving thanks for something that has touched our hearts. We often host church friends or neighbors, and if it’s not the latter, we have “Friendsgiving” with them the next day. I enjoy the time together and all of the tasty food (especially pumpkin cookies that my mother makes), but I also know that that’s not the only reason why Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays.
The Cornucopia, a famous symbol for Thanksgiving, is often depicted as overflowing with fruits or other foods. These objects are meant to represent fulfillment and fullness, but what if the symbol misses the true meaning of plenty?
Are the people who gather around the table the stimulus of thankfulness? The settlers weren’t alone in their celebration, and the company of the Wampanoag Natives would have been more than welcome to the small number of settlers, but perhaps it served as another reminder as well.
Perhaps it reminded the colonists that their dwindling number was due to those they had lost along the way. The work of their hands had brought them to their table, but for how long would the table hold?
Maybe, just maybe, the lesson of Thanksgiving, the lesson of the cornucopia, is this: no matter if it is eel or your favorite delicacy that adorns your table, no matter who sits around the table, whether it be the twelve knights of Camelot or a mismatch of survivors like it was all those years ago, no matter what befalls you, in everything give thanks.
Aren’t our lives merely miracles in motion?
If that’s not something to be thankful for, then I don’t know what is.
