Thanksgiving is a strange holiday for me. To me, itâs like a holiday that used to be really important, but then everyone in the world stopped celebrating it.
Of course, itâs just as important as it was when I was a kid, but in England it doesnât exist. I just got back from my morning run (still sweating) and just realised that today is Thanksgiving. To the world around me, itâs a day like any other.
When I first moved here, I told myself that I would hold tightly to my American childhood. I would cook a turkey every Thanksgiving and have fireworks every fourth of July. Hell, maybe Iâll even hang a big olâ American flag in front of my house like I did when I was living in a small town in Missouri. My house was going to be like an U.S. EmbassyâUS soil in a foreign land. Well, the zeal wore off years ago. Life keeps moving on and you have to move on with it.
But then, again, I suppose Thanksgiving doesnât have a hold on me just because I was born in a land that celebrates it. Increasingly, maybe because of age, I find myself less concerned with who I was and more concerned with who I am. When I sit in meditation, for example, I try to focus on the current moment and leave the past where it belongsâas a construct of my own memory. In a sense, the Eric Wroolie who I identify myself withâthe American kid who likes baseball and fast-foodâdoesnât really exist at all. I have only what I have now. Even the America I remember changes every time I go backâso I identify more with a memory than with the reality. But Iâm definitely not Englishâthe accent always gets in the way. In a way, the ânationalityâ of things is really unimportant. Whoa, didnât mean to try to get deep hereâit must be the running high.
Well, anyway, happy Thanksgiving to all my family and friends back in the States. Today for me will be a day like any other day, but I will occasionally stop and remember that today is actually a holiday and I will think about my family coming together back home.