TOYS AND GAMES: Behind the Scenes at the First Thanksgiving

Flash back to the picnic that turned into a national holiday.

Did the  Wampanoag tribe invite the Pilgrims over or visa-versa? Formal occasion? Bloody Marys or Mimosas while watching the Macy’s parade?

Alas, some questions will remain unanswered. Fortunately, I’ve managed to piece together the facts to answer to the important ones. Remember, I see things and I’m pretty good at using the Internet. Combining those gifts, I’ve uncovered what really happened at the inaugural Thanksgiving, which should enlighten all as to how the traditions we follow were born.

First, the easy stuff.

According to Wikipedia, the date of the first Thanksgiving is unclear. No problem. Any moron can approximate that it took place some time after November 20 and before December 1. College football rivalry week, right? Game Day featured a solo Lee Corso in 1621.

Now, the pla-yahs in this show.

The first Thanksgiving

I’ve always been taught to follow the money, and in the case of Thanksgiving, I’ve got to go with the idea that the Wampanoag tribe and one or two enterprising Plymouth Plantation settlers (picture Mr. Haney from Green Acres) were in cahoots, much like Sergeant O’Roarke and Corporal Agarn were with the Hekawis—led by Chief Wild Eagle, in F Troop. Thus, the genesis of the turkey tradition, the kids table and Black Friday.

Yes, the settlers had a crop they’d proudly harvested prior to that first Thanksgiving, but as any settler worth his broadcloth suit would tell you, you gotta have meat. Enter the opportunistic Wampanoag, who just so happened to have a surplus of Swanson frozen turkey and mash potato meals they needed to unload. Underneath the mandate to “sell before November 1622″ the directions read:  “Vent by making a cut in the plastic then place over campfire. Cook until the turkey is browned or the plastic melts.”

While I’m not the biggest fan of turkey, Thanksgiving tradition is blessed that the Wampanoag did not have a surplus of spam that fall.

My friend Gary recently recounted how his sister and he would get stuck at the kids table on Thanksgiving. That arrangement fostered wild calculations about the ill fortunes needed to take place in order for them to move up to the adult table. Of course, once you’re an adult, you realize you’d rather be sitting at the kids table (provided you can bring along your adult beverages), but when you’re a kid, you’re pissed.

Alas, Gary’s and his sister’s calculations — despite good intentions —  were misdirected. Progressing from the kids table never depended on Uncle Eddie passing to the other side of the grass, rather it was all about the Benjamins — or pre-Benjamins at the first Thanksgiving. Once again, credit Wampanoag ingenuity. They had the insight to bring priority seating to the equation.

Given the fact Pilgrim parents were thrifty, they weren’t about to cough up extra seat licensing funds for their kids to have a place alongside them at the adult table. Said fiscal position relegated the kids to the cheap seats, which came to be known as the kids table, a.k.a., the nose-bleed section or standing room only.

Finally, the Wampanoag knew retail, which could be seen in the many sales they offered the day after Thanksgiving. Accordingly, Pilgrim husbands slipped their wives a few shekels to trade while they went off hunting or watched football. And Black Friday was born featuring shops we still love today. Note: Restoration Hardware went by “Hardware” and Anne Taylor was Ann Rosencranz (maiden name).

So that’s the unvarnished truth about what happened at the first Thanksgiving. Internet research combined with a ’60s sit com is about as credible as it gets. Well, at least as credible as an Oliver Stone flick.

Happy Thanksgiving. See you again next week.


TOYS AND GAMES: Win the Lottery, Become a Superhero?

In your daydreams about winning the Lottery, have you ever entertained the thought of becoming a superhero if you cashed the magic ticket? Bruce Wayne did hit the Power Ball, right?

“Batman Matias G Martinez” by Comunidadartistas – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons


I believe a moratorium should be placed on any man over the age of 30 who wears his hat backwards.


My mother once asked my younger brother to tell her his favorite color. He hadn’t even begun kindergarten at that point, but he managed to display some sense. After telling her that purple was his favorite color, she asked him to spell purple. He promptly changed his favorite color to red, telling her “R-E-D.”


In the fall of 1975, some bad ass stepped to the podium at my freshman orientation at Georgia Tech and told us: “Look to your left and look to your right, in four years only one of you will be here.”

Talk about intimidation.

Now I see that the first-year retention rate at Tech is 97 percent.

In other words, the school has realized it spends a lot of time and money qualifying what students get into the school so it doesn’t make any sense to run them off. The times they are a changing. And for the better if you ask me.


High school football players really should give more consideration to what college they attend, like picking the school with the best academic reputation rather than signing up for the “program that will get them to the NFL.”

Consider the following statistics I mined off the Internet:

Of the roughly 1.086 million high school football players each year, just 256 matriculate to get drafted by the NFL. The league minimum of $420,000 translates to $252,000 after taxes and the average NFL career lasts approximately three years.

Do the math. You might want to pay more attention in class.


Finally, Patti looked away from the paper this morning and announced: “Godfather Trilogy on Thursday morning.”

She then appeared surprised when I didn’t seem pleased with her comment. I brusquely corrected her: “Wrong. There are only two Godfather movies. One and two.”

If you don’t understand my remark, turn in your Man Card then go for lunch with Clemenza. You’re driving.