Multicultural Thanksgiving

Our older daughter goes to first grade with Calix, Yoni, Sophia, Joel, two Zoes, Samir and Jade. You may think you can infer ethnicities from those names. But a few weeks ago, when I picked up Elise at the playground, she clambered across the monkey bars with a pal who is Asian.

The boy’s father asked, “Your daughter is Chinese?”

“Yes,” I told him. “Her name is Elise Jia-Mei. Excellent-Beautiful in Mandarin, as I’m sure you know. And what’s your little boy’s name?”

The Chinese father patted his son’s head. “Dylan.”

Some people who thump their chests over being Americans at times forget what it really is to be one. If we for a moment forget what happened to Native Americans ultimately, Thanksgiving is as multicultural as it can get in America. It is one of those rare holidays that you can adopt and start your own traditions around. You don’t have to worship anything or make any obligatory offerings but simply get around the table with friends and family and say thanks. With tons of food to pig out on, I cannot understand how anyone cannot love Thanksgiving.


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