It’s Thursday, November 24th, 2011….Thanksgiving Day.  And as has been our custom since the inception of The Gouge, we interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to remember those who blood, sweat, toil and tears formed the foundation of our feast, as well as He who alone is worthy of all thanksgiving and praise.

First, two reprints of the WSJ‘s traditional Thanksgiving offerings:

The Desolate Wilderness

A chronicle of the Pilgrims’ arrival at Plymouth, as recorded by Nathaniel Morton.

Here beginneth the chronicle of those memorable circumstances of the year 1620, as recorded by Nathaniel Morton , keeper of the records of Plymouth Colony, based on the account of William Bradford , sometime governor thereof:

So they left that goodly and pleasant city of Leyden, which had been their resting-place for above eleven years, but they knew that they were pilgrims and strangers here below, and looked not much on these things, but lifted up their eyes to Heaven, their dearest country, where God hath prepared for them a city (Heb. XI, 16), and therein quieted their spirits.

When they came to Delfs-Haven they found the ship and all things ready, and such of their friends as could not come with them followed after them, and sundry came from Amsterdam to see them shipt, and to take their leaves of them. One night was spent with little sleep with the most, but with friendly entertainment and Christian discourse, and other real expressions of true Christian love.

The next day they went on board, and their friends with them, where truly doleful was the sight of that sad and mournful parting, to hear what sighs and sobs and prayers did sound amongst them; what tears did gush from every eye, and pithy speeches pierced each other’s heart, that sundry of the Dutch strangers that stood on the Key as spectators could not refrain from tears. But the tide (which stays for no man) calling them away, that were thus loath to depart, their Reverend Pastor, falling down on his knees, and they all with him, with watery cheeks commended them with the most fervent prayers unto the Lord and His blessing; and then with mutual embraces and many tears they took their leaves one of another, which proved to be the last leave to many of them.

Being now passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before them in expectations, they had now no friends to welcome them, no inns to entertain or refresh them, no houses, or much less towns, to repair unto to seek for succour; and for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of the country know them to be sharp and violent, subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous to travel to known places, much more to search unknown coasts.

Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wilde beasts and wilde men? and what multitudes of them there were, they then knew not: for which way soever they turned their eyes (save upward to Heaven) they could have but little solace or content in respect of any outward object; for summer being ended, all things stand in appearance with a weatherbeaten face, and the whole country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and savage hew.

If they looked behind them, there was a mighty ocean which they had passed, and was now as a main bar or gulph to separate them from all the civil parts of the world.

And the Fair Land

‘For all our social discord we yet remain the longest enduring society of free men governing themselves without benefit of kings or dictators.’

Any one whose labors take him into the far reaches of the country, as ours lately have done, is bound to mark how the years have made the land grow fruitful.

This is indeed a big country, a rich country, in a way no array of figures can measure and so in a way past belief of those who have not seen it. Even those who journey through its Northeastern complex, into the Southern lands, across the central plains and to its Western slopes can only glimpse a measure of the bounty of America.

And a traveler cannot but be struck on his journey by the thought that this country, one day, can be even greater. America, though many know it not, is one of the great underdeveloped countries of the world; what it reaches for exceeds by far what it has grasped.

So the visitor returns thankful for much of what he has seen, and, in spite of everything, an optimist about what his country might be. Yet the visitor, if he is to make an honest report, must also note the air of unease that hangs everywhere.

For the traveler, as travelers have been always, is as much questioned as questioning. And for all the abundance he sees, he finds the questions put to him ask where men may repair for succor from the troubles that beset them.

His countrymen cannot forget the savage face of war. Too often they have been asked to fight in strange and distant places, for no clear purpose they could see and for no accomplishment they can measure. Their spirits are not quieted by the thought that the good and pleasant bounty that surrounds them can be destroyed in an instant by a single bomb. Yet they find no escape, for their survival and comfort now depend on unpredictable strangers in far-off corners of the globe.

How can they turn from melancholy when at home they see young arrayed against old, black against white, neighbor against neighbor, so that they stand in peril of social discord. Or not despair when they see that the cities and countryside are in need of repair, yet find themselves threatened by scarcities of the resources that sustain their way of life. Or when, in the face of these challenges, they turn for leadership to men in high places—only to find those men as frail as any others.

So sometimes the traveler is asked whence will come their succor. What is to preserve their abundance, or even their civility? How can they pass on to their children a nation as strong and free as the one they inherited from their forefathers? How is their country to endure these cruel storms that beset it from without and from within?

Of course the stranger cannot quiet their spirits. For it is true that everywhere men turn their eyes today much of the world has a truly wild and savage hue. No man, if he be truthful, can say that the specter of war is banished. Nor can he say that when men or communities are put upon their own resources they are sure of solace; nor be sure that men of diverse kinds and diverse views can live peaceably together in a time of troubles.

But we can all remind ourselves that the richness of this country was not born in the resources of the earth, though they be plentiful, but in the men that took its measure. For that reminder is everywhere—in the cities, towns, farms, roads, factories, homes, hospitals, schools that spread everywhere over that wilderness.

We can remind ourselves that for all our social discord we yet remain the longest enduring society of free men governing themselves without benefit of kings or dictators. Being so, we are the marvel and the mystery of the world, for that enduring liberty is no less a blessing than the abundance of the earth.

And we might remind ourselves also, that if those men setting out from Delftshaven had been daunted by the troubles they saw around them, then we could not this autumn be thankful for a fair land.

Lastly, a letter from a truly thankful American hero, a Naval Academy graduate serving his country and the Corps, courtesy of Laura Miller:

Happy Holidays to all,

I recently traveled to Las Vegas to celebrate the 236th anniversary of the founding of the U.S. Marine Corps. While listening to the Commandant’s message and looking around the room, I welled up with pride as I remembered how I celebrated the Marine Corps “birthday” last year. I celebrated in the home of a local Afghan with my Marines gathered around. We ate awful food, we cut the cake, we shared a few laughs and we thought about home. We celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas (and Chanukah) and the New Year in much the same way. Many Marines will celebrate the holidays in that same way this year.

As I think back on those times I remember all of the things that I am thankful for. The list is enormous and ranges from a warm bed to no longer having to worry about where I take my next step but I just want to share a few.

First, I am thankful for my family and friends. The support that I received during my time in Afghanistan was overwhelming. I cannot recall how many socks I went through, or pieces of gum I chewed courtesy of my loved ones. Now that I am home I think back on how many people throughout my life I have to be thankful for. Life has presented me with many opportunities. I doubt that many would have been possible without a loving family and a strong group of friends. Thank you, all.

I am thankful to have been born in the United States of America. A slight change in fate and I could have been born in Afghanistan and on the wrong end of a Marine’s rifle fire. Instead I was born into an amazing family in Baltimore, Maryland, USA! Each time I am stopped and thanked for my service I am overcome with gratitude to have been born in a country such as this.

Lastly, I am thankful to God for giving me the opportunity to go to Afghanistan, to serve with some amazing men, and to bring them all home. The opportunity to see the ugly side of humanity also allowed me to see the most beautiful side. The experience has made me grateful for each person, each experience and each blessing in my life.

Count your blessings this holiday season and know that there is much in life to be thankful for.

Warmest wishes for a great rest of the year,

David

To all of you, a very happy and blessed Thanksgiving….and always remember those who made today’s celebration possible.  We should thank God for them every day.

Magoo