Thanksgiving is a week and four days away — a thought that makes you panic, just a little.
November is one of those months as thick as a Grisham novel. You expect to take some time to get through it, but somehow the time between Halloween and National Engorgement Thursday is suddenly gone.
Worse yet, you’re not even in the holiday mood yet.
The reason why? There aren’t enough seasonal songs battering your ears for weeks in advance.
Sure, there’s “Over the River and Through the Woods,” but that’s basically a song about taking a 19th-century Uber to see Gram.
How about a modern version? Something like:
“35W’s stop and go.
The rain turned to ice, cars skate
The GPS app
Says Crosstown is crap
Call Mom and say we’ll be late, ohhh!”
Or we could rewrite “O Tannenbaum:”
“O Butterball, O Butterball
I hope your meat’s not dry and tough
O Butterball, O Butterball
I fear you did not thaw enough
If you’re not done, I’m in a plight
The stupid yams were not timed right
O Butterball, O Butterball ... ”
No, no. You’re right. Even if there were Thanksgiving Day songs, no one would sing them. We’re just not in the mood.
The mall decorations have already fast-forwarded to December. The mall music is “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” not “Spank Your Can of Jellied Cranberries.”
If you think about Thanksgiving at all right now, you imagine being stuffed with fowl of gratitude, staring down at the empty plate that only seconds ago had held a piece of pie the size of those cheesehead hats worn by Packer fans, wondering if you should go to the mall now and buy a TV and some sweaters.
Thanksgiving is a holiday without innumerable commercial tie-ins. It has no banal tunes you’ve heard a hundred thousand times before.
It’s fraught with culinary performance anxiety.
And we love it.
So, let’s all sing along, to the tune of “Silver Bells:”
“Pilgrim Hats, Pilgrim Hats!
They’re black and tall, and have buckles
Pilgrim Hats, Pilgrim Hats!
Soon it will be Green Bean Eve!”