Thanksgiving

It is at present impossible to determine when the General Court will adjourn, none of the great business having as yet been attended to, so as to be completed, but there seems to be a general determination to be at home at Thanksgiving. I hope it will be possible.

Across the harsh, salty smells that blew in gusts from the half-uncovered mud-flats of the river, my memory of old Thanksgivings at home called up most rich and tender savors of roast goose till an appetite of huge anticipation began to riot beneath my waistcoat.

This is church! They spent their Thanksgivings and Christmases with us to bring some normalcy to our lives. They bore the cold winter nights sleeping in tents, showering and bathing whenever and wherever possible. They rolled up their sleeves, gutted houses, cleaned yards, and poured out their hearts; they had compassion on us. By joining forces with the National Guard and city officials, the church and government walked hand and hand with common goals—rebuilding lives and revitalizing our cities.

Our Thanksgivings are always nice and quiet. Dad cleans, Mom cooks, and I set the table. We sit down, talk about how grateful we are for good health and family, and eat.

Thus Sukkot became the Jewish Thanksgiving.

The German Thanksgiving Day typically is on the first day of October when samples of the new harvest are displayed in churches.

To apply this technique in the context of the Minnesota Korean community, I utilized Korean holiday events such as Korean Thanksgiving Day (called Chusok in Korean) and the Korean New Year Day (called solnal in Korean).

Now the happy king laid the forehead of thankſgiving upon the duſt of gratitude; he opened the doors of his wealth to the four winds, and enriched the world, at once, with his munificence.

The waters grew suddenly lighter, and my spirits rose accordingly. I shouted down to those below that I saw daylight ahead, and a great shout of thanksgiving reverberated through the ship. A moment later we emerged into sunlit water, and immediately I raised the periscope and looked about me upon the strangest landscape I had ever seen.

People gathered, she said, "not simply in an attitude of mourning, grievous as those events were, but rather in the spirit of thanksgiving that George and Harvey were among us, that they shared with us their dreams and aspirations for the San Francisco of the 1980s."

Hester Earle and Violet Wayne were moving about the aisle with bundles of wheat-ears and streamers of ivy, for the harvest thanksgiving was shortly to be celebrated, while the vicar stood waiting for their directions on the chancel steps with a great handful of crimson gladioli.