Thanksgiving is the fourth Thursday of November. In five out of seven years, Thanksgiving will be the last Thursday of the month. (Those two odd years is what threw me and kept me confused about when Thanksgiving really is).

In 1939, it seems that our president, Franklin Roosevelt had a half-baked idea that Thanksgiving should be the third Thursday in November. The Republicans, however would have none of it. They accused Roosevelt of just trying to lengthen the number of shopping days from Thanksgiving to Christmas, and called FDR's proposal, "Franksgiving."

Thomas Jefferson once said, that congress should not have to tell people to be thankful by proclaiming a day to do it. That sounds right, but by 1942 congress figured proclaiming was now their job since Thomas J. was toast.  So, after three years of bickering over it, congress jumped in and permanently set Thanksgiving for the fourth Thursday of the month.

Okay, now I have it.

Thanksgiving is the fourth Thursday in November.

Then of course there are the pilgrims. I am sure those Pilgrims were pretty thankful at that.  My great grandparents were Pilgrims on the first Mayflower - Steven Hopkins and Constance Snow.  Of course, there was also grandmother, Thankful Snow.  Here in Florida we are pretty Thankful it Doesn't Snow.  The harsh truth is, of the 102 who came over on the first Mayflower half of them were dead before Thanksgiving. The other half were just glad to be alive, not having died from disease, exposure or being shot in the head by Indian arrows. 

I remember my grandmother saying when she was a little girl they would not go out after dark because the Indians would scalp them. The only folks going out after dark carried weapons, knew how to use them, and could run like a deer. Some scary stuff there.
Those pilgrims were pretty thankful for Tisquantum, whom they called "Squanto," who taught them how to grow some grub.  Even though Squanto once lived with my grandpa, Captain Mark Snow, I wonder though, how much do you think the other Pilgrims really trusted Squanto?
 
Imagine it. Miles Standish saying, "Hey Squanto we are having a cookout, why don't you and the tribe come over and bring a covered dish, come, eat with us."

Seems pleasant enough. However those Pilgrims had an arsenal of muskets loaded, standing up in the corner of that party. Hmmm . . . . I suppose it was a deterrent to anyone acting out, or in the event those Indians had ideas of scalping them Pilgrims at sundown.
 
You can never be too careful. Just in case someone's brother-in-law gets drunk and tries to start a fight at your party, you will certainly want your musket loaded and ready.
 
I have seen a few Thanksgivings like that.

My neighbors are having a Thanksgiving just like that, bless them.

Yesterday, I saw a van pull up to their house. To the best of my ability I counted 97 children and 3 adults pile out of the van. They are a loud tribe of people from Skeeterville, Mississippi.
 
Shortly after the van drove up the lawn service man was mowing grass next door. One of the van children began to throw rocks at the lawn fellow and shouted obscenities at him.

The lawn man balked, "Hey! Stop that you little brat! "

The child's mother running out of the house, like a warrior shouting, "Mark, you get over here. Mark, stop that! Mark, I mean it, you are going to get it. "
 
I could tell she had given this speech a few times. Still she continued to yell, " Mark, I have had enough. Mark, get OVER here. MARK! MARK!! MARK!!! You are really going to get it Mister!!"

I had hoped Mark was getting scalped, mainly so I could witness it, but I knew Mark's mother was bluffing. Mark knew it too.  Mark could care less what she had to say.

Next, Mark ran away from his mother, and came across the street to scream at my nephew who was up on the ladder painting the eaves of my house.

We watched in horror as the child cursed everything and everyone.

"Hey you little monster!" My nephew said, "What is your major malfunction?"

"Just a minute," I said, "Let me grab the musket."