If it's such an honor, how come there are no sports teams called the Pilgrims?

You may be aware that today is Thanksgiving, a day set aside for Americans to give thanks for our many blessings, such as the NFL. I'd like to wish an extra special Happy Thanksgiving to my housemates, none of whom are home right now. Aaron is at work, and Maria & Moray are spending the week with Maria's family in western New York.

Speaking of Moray, it occurs to me that this is his first American Thanksgiving. And if European schools teach American history the way that American schools teach European history, it's quite possible that poor Moray has no idea why we celebrate this uniquely American holiday. So, Moray, allow me to fill you in.

It all started with the very first Thanksgiving, which occurred in some year between 1492 and 1776, which are two historical dates I remember better than the date of the first Thanksgiving. To truly understand the first Thanksgiving, you must examine the history of some folks who called themselves the "pilgrims". The word "pilgrim", of course, comes from the word "pilgrimage", which, as we all know, is a religious journey that misguided people who are not Catholic take to a place called Mecca. The pilgrims, who were tired of being teased for not being Catholic, all crammed onto a boat called the Mayflower and set off on their holy journey.

But the pilgims' navigational experience was limited and, like Christopher Columbus before them, they ended up far from their destination, in the New World. They landed at a tourist spot called Plymouth Rock, although I'm pretty sure that it wasn't called Plymouth Rock before they arrived. You see, before the pilgrims arrived, the land surrounding the giant rock was populated by uneducated people who didn't speak English. These people were called Indians, and they had no idea that they'd been calling the rock by the wrong name for thousands of years.

Now, we know from the name of their boat that the pilgrims arrived at Plymouth Rock sometime in May, and we know from drawings in our history books that they spent their first summer praying and polishing their buckles. From trips to New England, we can deduce that they probably subsisted primarily on seafood; Maine lobster is abundant and delicious, if a little pricey.

But soon autumn came, and the weather turned cold.

"Brrrr," said the pilgrims.

Many of the seafood restaurants closed during the off-season, and the chilly pilgrims soon found themselves in the midst of a great famine.

"Growl," said the pilgrims' stomachs.

As if it weren't enough that they were cold and hungry, the pilgrims were lonely, too. After all, they were the first people to visit this new land that would one day become America, unless we count the Vikings, which we don't, or the Native Americans, which we also don't.

Speaking of the Native Americans, the starving pilgrims quickly noticed that these primitive people, who were still called Indians, had an abundance of food on account of their population was dwindling since they weren't smart enough to stop contracting diseases from the white man.

Yes, the Indians were cooking up a storm, and the smell of sweet corn, squash, mashed potatoes, and, of course, turkey, wafted throughout the land. The starving pilgrims, who were down to their last packet of Ramen noodles and were starting to consider the nutritional value of their buckles, knew that they had to score a dinner invite from their primitive Indian neighbors. But how?

Suddenly, the holiest and most clever pilgrim (of whom, I'm pretty sure, I'm a direct descendant) put down his buckle and called a meeting of his fellow pilgrims. "Fellow pilgrims," he said, "let us bake a sweet dessert from our leftover Halloween jack-o-lanterns and bring it to our dark-skinned neighbors. Surely they will invite us to feast with them. And let us bring our firearms, just in case. Amen."

And so it was that the first Thanksgiving was held at the Indians' house. The Indians had plenty of turkey and stuffing to go around, and one of the pilgrims ran to the store for extra cranberry sauce. It was a time of togetherness, a time of friendship. The Indians explained to the pilgrims over dinner that they should plant the soil in the spring and tend the land during the summer to ensure a bountiful autumn harvest; the pilgrims showed the Indians how to sprinkle marshmallows on their sweet potatoes.

"Let us be grateful," said the holiest pilgrim, as he raised his glass of brandy for an after-dinner toast, "for our new friends, the Indians. May our descendants honor them by naming sports teams after them and frequenting their casinos. Amen."

The Indians, who were still uneducated and still spoke no English, simply nodded at the white men in appreciation of the fact that they weren't shooting at them. Then they agreed to trade Manhattan in exchange for some colored beads.

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!