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Although these are emotionally demanding days, we must stop this week in the true meaning of the upcoming holiday to give thanks for our many remaining blessings.
|  | | Make sure to say hello to the relatives before camping on the couch to watch Brett Favre carve up the Lions. |
And I think what people are most thankful for each Thanksgiving is televised football.
I mean, it might be over the meadow and through the woods to grandmother's house we go, but when we get there, the last thing anyone wants to do is actually sit down and hear Aunt Eloise complain about her bunions or listen to cousin Jessie's theories on who will be the last person left on "Survivor." If we really wanted to see these people, we wouldn't have moved away in the first place.
That's the beauty of Thanksgiving Day football games. It gives us all an excuse to sit down for a couple hours on this most special and American of holidays and devote our full attention to the nation's most important tradition: watching steroid-crazed millionaires smash into each other over an inflated sphere of pigskin.
But there is so much more to Thanksgiving tradition than football. There is also stuffing yourself with so much turkey and pumpkin pie that your own mother would mistake you for Rick Majerus.
So as we pause today to figure out just how early we can leave the office without the boss noticing, let us also resolve to make this Thanksgiving particularly joyous by honoring all the little traditions, old and new, that make this holiday so special. I know I will.
|  | | Make sure to check this guy as he tries to run through the airport. |
I will arrive at the airport so many hours before my scheduled departure that I could watch an entire World Series game while waiting for my flight. I will fondly remember the days when the speed and efficiency of air travel was best symbolized by O.J. Simpson leaping over baggage handlers and sprinting through the terminal. Although the airport process is substantially slower these days, I will thank the security workers and national guardsmen for giving up their holiday to ensure safe flights for everyone, especially by checking O.J. for weapons.
I will be as patient as a point guard running Dean Smith's old four-corners offense while standing in airport security lines so long and so slow that when I finally pass through the scanner, I'll expect them to hand me a driver's test instead of my boarding pass. To make sure that I can fully pass the time, I will bring along a book, and that book will be the bound volume of the complete NCAA rulebook on recruiting.
When arriving at grandmother's house for Thanksgiving dinner, I will say hello to everyone first, before flopping on the couch in front of the TV to watch the Lions-Packers game.
I will mourn the long-ago loss of season-ending Turkey Day games between rival schools, while attempting to figure out whether my alma mater is in the AAAAAAAA or AAAAAAA sectionals of a state high school football tournament broken up into more divisions than the Balkans.
Come dinner time, I will stack my plate the way the Texas A&M students build their bonfire, piling on so much turkey, stuffing, potatoes, candy yams, cranberries, green beans, cornbread, marshmallow fluff fruit salad and pumpkin pie that the entire Thanksgiving Day newspaper, including all the Christmas advertising supplements, could be buried underneath, without anyone the wiser. After removing the last morsel from between my teeth with a toothpick, I will compliment the cook on the delicious meal and offer to wash dishes.
Unless, of course, the second half of the Cowboys game has already started.
|  | | Drop the kids at the cineplex and sneak off to watch Eric Crouch and the Huskers take on Colorado. |
In order to work off the excess calories, I will organize a touch football game in the backyard, just like the Kennedys do. Unfortunately, the game will devolve into a mud-stained, drunken and unresolved chaos of twisted knees, sprained ankles, bruised egos and bickering relatives, just like a weekend with Ted Kennedy.
I will relax in an EZ-Boy recliner softer than Charles Barkley, falling into a slumber so deep that I will resemble Don Zimmer during the final innings of a Yankees game.
When awakened by the offer of a final slice of pumpkin pie, I will insist I can eat no more, that I am more bloated than the Underdog balloon in the Macy's Parade. Then, when asked whether I'm sure, I'll reconsider and also ask for extra Cool Whip.
As we crowd into sleeping arrangements tighter than the Monday Night Football broadcast booth, I will show my appreciation for the food, warmth and hospitality showered upon me by volunteering to take the children to the theater the next day to see a double-feature of "Harry Potter" and "Monsters, Inc."
Naturally, I will not actually attend the movies with them, instead sneaking away from the ticket line to watch the Nebraska-Colorado and Texas-Texas A&M games in a bar across the street.
And while doing so, I will give thanks I live in a country where I can enjoy such a bounty.
Unless, of course, the Huskers fail to cover the spread.
Jim Caple is a senior writer for Page 2.
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