We should be grateful every day

“Seriously, you really don’t have to eat what I cook.”

— Standing offer to my children at mealtime

Thanksgiving really deserves more respect.

It’s a revered day of gratitude, making us thankful for things such as family, friends, comfort, security, health, the freedom to express thanks and food. Yes, those glorious 3,000-calorie Thanksgiving dinners.

These are things for which we should be grateful every day.

Yet, that one day is sandwiched between Halloween and Christmas, suffocating under yuletide décor shamelessly shoved on store shelves before Labor Day.

The first Thanksgiving was very different. It was a religious celebration in 1621 of prayer and fasting, not feasting, by British colonists. No turkey. No dressing. No pumpkin pie. Just settlers thankful for crops, weather and simple blessings. They shared the occasion with Native American tribes that helped them survive.

Sarah Josepha Hale, who authored “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” started a drive in 1846 for a national Thanksgiving holiday. Seventeen years later, President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed it a national holiday, hoping it would help heal a divided nation at war.

In 1941, Congress ended efforts to move the date by declaring the fourth Thursday of November as the permanent day to reflect on things we picture as blessings.

An early 1940s painting by American artist Norman Rockwell, creator of more than 300 Saturday Evening Post covers and some 4,000 paintings during his lifetime, is the image most frequently associated with Thanksgiving.

Titled “Freedom from Want,” the painting depicts a family gathering around a celebratory meal. It remains today as a favorite picture of Thanksgiving.

Rockwell once said he painted life not as it was, but what he wished it could be. M a y b e that’s what we’re all craving around the holidays — hope for what life should be.

Another American icon offering timeless pictures of America using childhood humor is Hank Ketcham and his cartoon, “Dennis the Menace.” One in particular mirrors Rockwell’s image, with Dennis and his parents sitting down for Thanksgiving dinner, heads bowed. In the caption, young Dennis says, “And I’m thankful the pilgrims didn’t have liver an’ onions for their Thanksgiving meal.”

Let me say, I’m with Dennis. My father liked liver, so Mom cooked it. Too often. And like most kids of my generation, I dared not question any meal Mom prepared, Thanksgiving or otherwise. My sisters and I respectfully ate what was set before us.

“When I left home,” I told a friend last week, “one of the things on my list vowing to never eat again was liver. A promise I have kept.”

“You mean your mother didn’t cook a separate meal for you and your sisters?” the longtime acquaintance said with a laugh.

Quick to affirm we had obviously grown up in the same age, my response was, “Nope! If it was on your plate, you were going to eat it before leaving the table. And leaving a family meal was something you didn’t do without asking, ‘May I please be excused?’” My mother also played the “Mom card” to shame us for wasting food.

“You know there are starving children all over the world,” she would say.

“Same with my parents,” my friend said. “One day my sister and I suggested Mom box up her stewed tomatoes and send them to those starving children. We laughed and laughed until we noticed the deafening silence and parental glares of disapproval.”

“There were times when I felt like my parents didn’t have a sense of humor, either,” I said in sympathy.

Varying only slightly once I became a parent, I gave my kids a standing offer. I told them they didn’t have to eat what I cooked if they didn’t want to.

“Really?” daughter Robin asked the first time. Lee said nothing. He was always good at keeping his mouth shut a little longer than his older sister.

“Sure,” I said, reaching for her plate. “I’ll just put it in the refrigerator and save it for supper tomorrow night.” My kids never questioned whether I had a sense of humor, just how I sometimes applied it.

So, here’s my serious wish for a happy Thanksgiving: May our hearts be filled with genuine gratitude for the things that make this country the best place on Earth to live, Thanksgiving Day and every day.

Oh, and like Dennis, maybe a small nod of thanks the pilgrims didn’t have liver or stewed tomatoes for Thanksgiving dinner.