It’s Thanksgiving in 2020, Charlie Brown!
In this plague year, where nothing is as it once was, our relationship to nearly every facet of life has been forced into reconsideration. Perspectives once thought to be constant have now shifted toward some surreal angle. This Thanksgiving, however, things seemed to proceed for my family with some semblance of normalcy. Keeping in line with the state’s limitations on just how many people could gather to celebrate the holiday, my mother and sister and I drove up to Albany to see my uncle and three cousins. It was a modestly sized group, sure, but my family is frustratingly skilled at drumming up an ear-splitting, chaotic frenzy out of even the smallest ensemble. The din of overlapping stories and jokes once again crowded my uncle’s cramped breakfast nook. Everything felt, for the most part, as it used to.
It was only once I escaped to the living room, seeking out some minutes of solitude, that an uncanny newness began to subtly sink in. I was relieved to discover that the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade would still go on this year. I turned to NBC to watch their coverage, greeted by a sartorially splendid and ever-jolly Al Roker. The Snoopy balloon lumbered in the air behind him. But this Snoopy was dressed as an astronaut. Had Snoopy always been an astronaut? Strange. I couldn’t remember. Then I noticed the six feet between the broadcasters. Suddenly it hit me that the streets were empty. There were no throngs of parents in pea coats, no rosy-cheeked children gazing up in awe at the sight of their favorite cartoon characters puffed up with helium, dancing past skyscraper rooftops like stoned Godzillas. The whole thing put a knot in my stomach. I returned to my family and managed to bury my unease in whiskey and stuffing.
I was determined, still, to wrench this holiday from the grasp of “these unprecedented and difficult times.” Sitting down to watch Charles Schultz’ Peanuts television specials have been, for me, as deeply embedded into holiday tradition as trick-or-treating or Christmas caroling. And so I got everyone together to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, the 1973 special directed by Bill Melendez and Phil Roman. Although most people seem to more readily remember the Peanuts’ Halloween and Christmas specials It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (honored with typical elegance by Reverse Shot’s Michael Koresky) and A Charlie Brown Christmas, A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving had always kept a quiet place in my heart.
The film begins with the familiar tableau of Lucy enticing Charlie Brown to punt a football. She assures him she won’t humiliate him with her usual prank of pulling the ball away, stating, “One of the greatest traditions we have is the Thanksgiving Day football game. And the biggest and most important tradition of all is the kicking off of the football.” Alas, Charlie falls for it, and once again ends up on his back. “Isn’t it peculiar, Charlie Brown,” Lucy looks down at him, “how some traditions just slowly fade away?”
This year, it was announced that for the first time, the Peanuts films would be relegated to the new streaming service, Apple TV+. As far back as I could remember, the special had aired annually on ABC. Before that, it had been broadcast on CBS, Disney, and Nickelodeon. Like Sesame Street’s recent gentrification (the series has been moved from PBS to HBO) we are again witnessing the transfer of an immensely beloved children’s program, once widely available, to a subscription-based streaming service, available only to those who can afford it. It’s hard for me to feel anything but cynical in the face of this pattern of privatization. After all, Thanksgiving is a time to share what you have with others.
I managed to find a copy of the film that someone had kindly uploaded to Vimeo so that people could watch for free. Looking through the comments people had left on the video, I felt reassured in my decision to rely on piracy over feeding the corporate beast. This zone of the internet, typically home to trolls, was populated instead by an overwhelming earnest joy. “This is a awsome movie!!!!!” one Khloie Jones wrote, adding, “This is such a cool video and i loved there food i wish i had there meal for thanksgiving.” “This movie is so relaxed and full of content feelings,” remarked a Lydia Palmer. Jim Sokaitis kept it simple. “Just love it. #tradition.”
Watching the film again, however, I could see why this particular special still remained somewhat overlooked. For one thing, not much really happens. Charlie Brown is preparing to go to his grandmother’s house with his family for the holiday. He gets a call from Peppermint Patty, who asks if he might have her over for Thanksgiving dinner. Soon enough, his friends Marcie and Franklin tag along as well. Charlie, lacking confidence in his abilities to prepare a proper Friendsgiving meal, calls upon the culinary expertise of his dog Snoopy and Snoopy’s bird friend Woodstock. They concoct a veritable feast of toast, popcorn, pretzel sticks, and candy. Peppermint Patty, seemingly unaware of the gauche nature of her self-invitation, lays into her host and Chef Snoopy for this unconventional dinner presentation.
“Where’s the turkey, Chuck? Don’t you know anything about Thanksgiving dinners? Where’s the mashed potatoes? Where’s the cranberry sauce? Where’s the pumpkin pie?” Rude as her outburst may have been, I couldn’t help but relate to Patty’s frustrated plea for Thanksgiving to feel normal. After Marcie counsels both Peanuts individually and brokers a reconciliation, peace returns to the dinner table. Charlie calls his grandmother to inform her that they may run late, and she invites his friends to join their Thanksgiving dinner. Hopping into the Browns’ station wagon, the children sing “Over the River and Through the Woods” along the way to Grandma Brown’s house.
A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving may not be as profound or plot-heavy as its holiday companions, but it nevertheless radiates a great sense of comfort clearly shared by viewers around the world. With both my stomach and my heart feeling fuller than they did in the morning, my anxiety evaporated. An early afternoon darkness had descended upon Albany. I spent the rest of the night in good company, and reflected on something Marcie said to Charlie Brown. “We should just be thankful for being together.”
