One week from today, in certain parts of our spinning sphere, what is known as Thanksgiving will be observed–or “celebrated”. The cliched image of this annual feasting on turkey and all those yummy fixings is one of families, maybe just one nuclear family, or much larger by additional relatives both nearby and from afar partaking in the event. Are you planning a gathering or planning to attend one by invitation? In either case, the idea is to give thanks, right? To? Hmm. Let’s go with peace, love and understanding. Thanks for this or that or the other, whatever. Thankful to have the opportunity to pig-out out with a absurdly large amount of grub that you didn’t have to bother to prepare.

The backstory of Thanksgiving day has to do with the Pilgrims–those who fled religious persecution in England. Religious persecution? I know, I know. Hard to believe huh? But that’s what I just read. And Google knows all, no? Anyway, the first such gathering to give thanks took place between foreigners who disembarked from their ships and eventually settled in what is known as Plymouth, Massachusetts circa 1621. The feast lasted three days. The pilgrims were joined by the indigenous Wampanoag peoples. Apparently it was a mutually enjoyable gathering.

Fast forward to 1637, when John Winthrop declared a day of celebration. Thanksgiving-ish? Well, not exactly. He wanted to celebrate colonial soldiers who had just slaughtered hundreds of Pequot men, women and children in Mystic, Connecticut. What? Slaughtered men, women and children?! Apparently it was a war for control of the fur and wampum (small beads made from shells used for decoration and money) trade.

Can you see where this posting is going yet? It has to do with our human species being prone to conflict. Over what? Well, what have you got? And a week from today maybe the feast that is supposedly all about good will, and getting along can be just that, even though history books and other bound tomes, including ones named the Bible or Quran, include lots of bloodshed. Thanksgiving is rooted in the Judeo-Christian tradition of the U.S. And recall the saying that never has so much blood been shed than that for the kingdom of God. Try and refute that assertion. Go ahead. I dare ya. Double dare!

However, I don’t really have a bone to pick with present day, well-intentioned, Thanksgiving observations in this country. Historically, and ironically, I must add, it has a history that bespeaks the inherent tendency for human disputes–be they based on wampum, fur, natural resources, differing skin colors, cultures, gods, or land disputes. Maybe even professional football teams. Or what “lite” beer is best.

Those Pequot children that were slaughtered in 1637 certainly resonates right now. Talk about history repeating itself! Will those gathering to give “thanks” a week from today, bother to be thankful they have a roof over their heads, rather than being buried by a roof and tons of bombed out rubble? I suppose some shall say a silent prayer for the current innocent children dying in yet another adult-driven conflict–over what? Over some steaming pile of bullshit. Over hate. Over the evil that seems to dominate our current world, recent and not so recent episodes of such chronicled in the history books that take up lots of shelf space, material and digital edition.

All children are innocent. In the beginning at least and maybe far into the future. Hopefully. But any such notion of “innocence” is seemingly dismissed in the twisted minds of certain adults who, with each passing day, declare that–by extension to their adult linage caught up in some absurd clash of ideological, ethnic or religious differences–are not innocent enough to not become collateral damage. Right now–as I write these words–there are apparently NO ADULTS with the ability or power or the inclination to stop the current slaughter of children in the Middle East, or other hot spots such as Syria, Yemen, Somalia, Mali, Nigeria, Sudan, Afghanistan, Cameroon, Democratic Republic of Africa or Democratic Republic of Congo. Not to mention on the the mean streets of inner cities, where simply walking to or from school or to get an ice cream might result in becoming ballistic collateral damage to turf wars or simply wearing something as banal as a pair of coveted Air Jordans.

But never you mind. Thanksgiving nears and at this point maybe we adults should all give thanks for somehow, some way, getting past childhood at all. To become adults. Hopefully the kind of adult that might actually understand that we don’t have to settle even the pettiest of disagreements with fists, knives, pistols, or AR15s. Or worse, bombs.

Of course, I know that is a pipedream. To answer Rodney King’s plea “Can’t we all just get along?” the answer is still, and likely forevermore will be, NO!

But I am grateful for one thing come this Thanksgiving. That I’m not a hapless turkey to be sacrificed for a family gathering to feast on me, while in all likelihood, not everyone at that dinner table has an upbeat attitude toward a fellow member of the gathering. Maybe even with one of the kids.