Honestly, the way we talk about a happy Thanksgiving usually involves a lot of turkey, some questionable football plays, and a very specific, very polished image of a shared meal in 1621. It’s a nice image. But if you actually dig into the letters and journals from that era—specifically the writings of Edward Winslow and William Bradford—you realize that what we celebrate now is basically a 19th-century invention layered over a much messier 17th-century reality.
It wasn't even called Thanksgiving back then.
To the Pilgrims, a "Thanksgiving" was a somber, religious day of fasting and prayer. The 1621 event? That was a harvest festival. It was loud. It was crowded. There were about 90 Wampanoag men and only about 50 English survivors. If you do the math, the settlers were vastly outnumbered in their own backyard.
The 1621 Reality Check
Most people think the Pilgrims invited the Wampanoag over for a formal dinner. That's not really how it went down. According to Winslow’s Mourt’s Relation, the English were out practicing their "exercising of our arms" (basically shooting at things) when Massasoit, the Wampanoag leader, showed up with 90 men.
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Imagine the tension.
The English were probably terrified at first. But instead of a fight, the Wampanoag stayed for three days. They even went out and killed five deer to add to the feast. They weren't just "guests" eating the Pilgrims' food; they provided the bulk of the meat. And they didn't sit at long tables with white tablecloths. They sat on the ground. They ate with their hands. They ate corn, fowl, and "strong water."
It’s also worth noting that the women were almost entirely missing from the historical narrative of that specific meal. Out of the women who sailed on the Mayflower, only four survived that first brutal winter to see the harvest. Four. Think about that for a second. While we picture a family-centric holiday, the 1621 event was essentially a bunch of soldiers and survivors trying to secure a fragile peace while eating enough calories to survive the next frost.
Why Sarah Josepha Hale is the Reason You Eat Turkey
If you want to know why we have a national holiday at all, you have to look at a woman named Sarah Josepha Hale. She’s the same person who wrote "Mary Had a Little Lamb," which is a weirdly specific claim to fame. For 36 years, she lobbied every sitting president to make Thanksgiving a national holiday.
She was relentless.
The country was tearing itself apart over slavery. Hale believed a unified day of thanks could sew the Union back together. Finally, in 1863, Abraham Lincoln listened. He saw the political and social value in a happy Thanksgiving that could provide a temporary reprieve from the carnage of the Civil War. It was a strategic move as much as a sentimental one.
Hale also basically wrote the "script" for what the meal should look like in her magazine, Godey’s Lady’s Book. She’s the reason we focus on turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie. If she hadn't been such a powerhouse editor, we might be eating eel or venison—which were actually on the menu in 1621—instead of birds that are notoriously difficult to keep from drying out.
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The Myth of the "First" Thanksgiving
We love to claim 1621 was the first one, but history is rarely that clean.
- In 1565, Spanish explorers and the Timucua people shared a communal meal in St. Augustine, Florida.
- In 1619, English settlers at Berkeley Hundred in Virginia decreed that the day of their arrival should be "kept holy as a day of thanksgiving."
- Indigenous peoples across the continent had been holding harvest festivals and ceremonies of gratitude for thousands of years before a single European ship hit the coast.
Calling 1621 the "first" is a bit like saying the iPhone was the first phone. It was the version that eventually got the best marketing. The New England version of the story became the national standard largely because New Englanders were the ones writing the school textbooks in the 19th century. They won the narrative war.
Modern Complications and "National Day of Mourning"
For many, wishing someone a happy Thanksgiving feels complicated. Since 1970, many Indigenous people and their allies have gathered at Cole's Hill in Plymouth for a National Day of Mourning. It’s a reminder that the arrival of the Pilgrims was the beginning of a devastating period of plague, land theft, and the erasure of cultures.
The Wampanoag leader Ousamequin (Massasoit) formed an alliance with the English out of necessity. His people had been decimated by a plague—likely leptospirosis brought by European sailors—just years before. He needed an ally against the Narragansett. It wasn't just a friendly "let's share some corn" moment; it was high-stakes geopolitics.
Understanding this doesn't mean you can't enjoy your dinner. It just adds a layer of honesty to the table. You can appreciate the warmth of your family while acknowledging that the historical foundation of the day is built on both genuine cooperation and immense suffering.
The Science of Gratitude (It’s Not Just Fluff)
We talk about being "thankful," but there is actual neurological data to back up why this holiday might be good for your brain. Research from the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley suggests that practicing gratitude can lower blood pressure and improve sleep.
When you genuinely feel thankful, your brain releases dopamine and serotonin. These are the "feel-good" neurotransmitters. It’s not just about being polite. It’s a biological reset. In a world that is increasingly polarized and stressful, taking a day to intentionally focus on what isn't going wrong is a survival mechanism.
How to Actually Do It Right This Year
If you’re looking to have a truly happy Thanksgiving, move beyond the aesthetic. Forget the "perfect" table you see on social media. That’s just modern-day Sarah Josepha Hale stuff. It’s fake.
- Source locally, if you can. The original meal was about what was literally in the ground around them. Hit a farmer's market. Get the ugly carrots.
- Tell the whole story. If there are kids at the table, tell them about the Wampanoag. Tell them about the deer. Tell them that the Pilgrims almost didn't make it.
- Ditch the performance. The best parts of these holidays happen when the "host" stops trying to be a Michelin-star chef and just sits down.
- Acknowledge the land. Look up whose ancestral lands you are currently living on. Websites like Native-Land.ca are great for this. It’s a small but significant way to ground the holiday in reality.
The Evolution of the Menu
Food is the soul of the day, but it’s changed wildly. In the 1600s, there was no butter and no wheat flour for crusts. So, no pies. They had pumpkins, but they probably filled them with milk, honey, and spices and baked them in the ashes. It was more like a custard inside a gourd.
And the turkey? It might not have even been the main event. Winslow mentions "wild fowl," which could have been ducks, geese, or even passenger pigeons (which are now extinct). The focus was on what was available.
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Today, we spend billions on specific ingredients that often travel thousands of miles. There’s a certain irony in that. A holiday meant to celebrate a local harvest has become a massive logistical feat of global shipping.
The Logistics of the Modern Holiday
Every year, the AAA predicts travel numbers, and they are usually staggering. We’re talking 50 million plus people cramming into tin cans in the sky or sitting in gridlock on the I-95. Why? Because the human need for connection is stronger than the hatred of traffic.
It’s the one day of the year where the "hustle" is supposed to stop. Even if it doesn't quite stop—even if retail workers are prepping for Black Friday—the collective consciousness of the country shifts.
Actionable Steps for a Better Thanksgiving
Instead of just drifting through the day, try a few specific shifts in how you approach the holiday.
- Audit your "traditions": If you hate green bean casserole, stop making it. There is no law saying you have to eat gray beans and canned onions. The 1621 feast was about what tasted good and kept people alive. Follow that vibe.
- Create a "No-Politics" buffer zone if needed: If you know the family dinner is a powder keg, set the ground rules early. It’s okay to protect the peace for four hours.
- Support Indigenous-led organizations: Consider a donation to groups like the Native American Rights Fund (NARF) or local tribal initiatives. It balances the "taking" of the holiday with some "giving."
- Focus on the "After": The leftovers are arguably the best part. Get good containers. Plan the sandwiches. The low-stress day-after is often more "thankful" than the high-stress day-of.
Ultimately, a happy Thanksgiving isn't about a perfect recreation of a myth. It’s about the reality of the people sitting in the chairs next to you right now. It's about surviving another year, acknowledging the complicated history of the land you're on, and being honest about the fact that we’re all just trying to make it through the winter.
The history is messy. The politics are complicated. But the core idea—stopping to breathe and eat with people you care about—is one of the few things that actually makes sense. Keep it simple. Keep it real. And maybe, for once, don't overcook the bird.
Check the turkey temperature at the thickest part of the thigh; you're looking for 165°F (74°C) to ensure it's safe without being dry. Research the history of the Mashpee Wampanoag Tribe to understand the contemporary context of the people who were there at the beginning. Organize a "gratitude circle" that goes beyond surface-level comments—ask guests to share one specific person they are grateful for and why.