Op-Ed: Our Ancestors Committed Countless Untold Atrocities To Make Thanksgiving Dinner Possible So You Will Eat Canned Cranberry Sauce And You Will SAVOR IT
Thank you all for being here on this hallowed Thursday. Before we dig in, I prepared a few words on the complex history of this holiday. Though Thanksgiving is a day to express gratitude for our blessings, it is also a somber reminder of the atrocities committed against those who lived on this land before us. We’ve all heard the popular telling of the first Thanksgiving, but—Oh, um, hmm. I see a few of you decided to pass on the canned cranberry sauce this year. A bold decision.
As I was saying, the true story of the first Thanksgiving is a grim affair. Rather than extending an olive branch of friendship, the pilgrims—It’s just that you all helped yourself to every other dish on the table, but the meal isn’t really complete without canned cranberry sauce. Sticking your nose up at this modern delicacy is a personal insult—not to me, but to all those who suffered deeply to make this American tradition possible.
And in a way, isn’t canned cranberry sauce the America of this Thanksgiving feast? It began as a single cranberry in a melting pot of messy, gelatinous goo. Over time, that goo solidified as a complex, flawed, powerful hero of the modern era, an unlikely empire in its own right. Also, it's kinda sour.
This food represents the tension between past and present, as does this authentic Puritan iron spearhead. Here, pass it around to admire up close. It is paramount we remain humble and remember we’re never far removed from our past— Hey, did someone get canned cranberry sauce on the spearhead, or is this red speck the dried blood of yesteryear?
Either way, it is a sobering reminder that Thanksgiving will forever be a celebration built on the total decimation of an entire people—much like how canned cranberry sauce is a total decimation of the boundaries between the natural world and human innovation.
Did our ancestors pillage? Yes. Plunder? Of course! Do you think the settlers simply manifested their destiny? No! They went out and seized it—just like I seized the last can of cranberry sauce from the greedy, maw-like grip of an elderly woman’s hands and triumphantly proceeded to the checkout line. That is the nation our ancestors fought for, fraught with violence, ageism, sexism, and racism. Sure, the old woman was white, but she could have been another race and I still would’ve pushed her to the ground faster than you can say “systemic oppression.”
Don’t worry about the old bat, the paramedics said she was fine.
A sea of human blood was shed for our celebration. If one of our ancestors’ millions of brutally slaughtered victims was here with us right now, bearing a gift of canned cranberry sauce, would you say “no, I’m not eating that, it looks disgusting?" Or would you add one more seat around the table, apologize for Grandpappy Jolly Giddeon’s historical whoopsie, and spoon a generous helping of ridged sauce onto your plate in the spirit of gratitude?
In honor of our Native American brethren, without whom our ancestors would have rapidly perished, let us all accept the canned cranberry sauce into our hearts and onto our plates. Your great great great great great great great great great great grandfathers didn’t do a genocide so some of you could sit here and turn up your nose at this culinary marvel.
Dig in!
