The Rice And Wrongs - Thanksgiving Makes No Damn Sense

Story by Dan Nguyen 

| Published Dec 1, 2009

When it comes to the most interesting holidays Thanksgiving takes the turkey. To me, no other holiday holds hidden complexities the way Thanksgiving does.

The false historical depiction of pilgrims getting along eternally with Indians can come off unpleasantly ignorant. The modern day materialism caused by retailers on Black Friday can seem economically irresponsible. And then to top it off, to show gratification for another year blessed in good health we consume 8,000 calories in Turkey, Beer, and mashed potatoes. The variables of Thanksgiving summed up together just don’t make much sense.

As complex and contradictory Thanksgiving is though, no matter your motives for sitting down and eating twice your weight in pecan pumpkin pie, Thanksgiving never leaves a bitter taste in your mouth; literally and metaphorically-- For whatever reason Americans love Thanksgiving.

As I spooned my 4th serving of green bean casserole I realized why the conundrum of Thanksgiving makes so much sense; sometimes things that don’t make sense make the most sense.

At one point in her life my mother, a Vietnamese woman who hardly knows what a pilgrim is, learned to cook a tasty pumpkin pie.

At one point in his life my father, a Vietnamese immigrant who came to America alone with $20, became a 3-time Husker parent and Husker football fanatic.

At one point in her life my 4-month-old niece, Mia Lien Braasch, will have to learn that her mother’s Maiden name is pronounced nuhWEN.

At one point in my relationship with my girlfriend, a Catholic Red-head with cute little freckles, I realized we were the only Asian/Redhead couple in the world.

At one point in his life my Grandpa, a White retired train traffic controller who volunteered to sponsor Vietnamese refugees in the late 70’s, decided to call my father a son.

From the starting point of my life my Caucasian Grandpa has always been my favorite relative.

One thing we can understand as Americans is that America often times doesn’t make sense; and that makes us unique. Things that could only happen in our wildest dreams happen here.

Marching a giant inflated beagle down a New York City street doesn't make much sense. The belt buckle on Pilgrims hats? That makes no damn sense. What are they keeping up there that they feel the need to fasten their caps to their heads.

I leave this year's Thanksgiving with no further insight into understanding Thanksgiving, other than it makes perfect sense that Thanksgiving makes no damn sense at all--and I love it.