One of the best parts of Thanksgiving for me is re-watching some

Marlo Thomas once reflected with laughter and warmth: “One of the best parts of Thanksgiving for me is re-watching some of the classic holiday blunders that have been depicted on television. I remember laughing uncontrollably on the set of ‘That Girl’ back in 1967 when we shot the episode, ‘Thanksgiving Comes But Once A Year, Hopefully,’ during our second season.” Her words reveal that the heart of celebration is not perfection, but joy. For in her memory, it is not the flawless feast that endures, but the shared laughter born from mistakes and mishaps that make the holiday timeless.

The origin of this saying lies in Thomas’s experience as both an actress and a cultural figure. In the late 1960s, That Girl broke new ground as one of the first American sitcoms to center a single, independent woman. When the show turned its attention to Thanksgiving, it did not offer the polished image of a flawless holiday, but rather the chaos and comedy that families know all too well. In recalling that moment decades later, Thomas reminds us that the truest memories are not the staged ideals but the real, imperfect moments of humanity—captured then on film, and cherished still in her heart.

Throughout history, the feast has always been a place where blunders and triumphs mingled. The Pilgrims themselves, at the first Thanksgiving, were not surrounded by golden turkeys and perfect pies, but by meager harvests and improvised meals. Their celebration was meaningful not because of culinary triumph but because it symbolized survival, community, and gratitude. The blunders—burnt food, forgotten dishes, chaotic kitchens—are but modern echoes of that same truth: that imperfection does not destroy a holiday but deepens it with humor and humility.

The mention of television in Thomas’s reflection points to another truth: that shared stories shape how we remember and laugh at our own lives. Just as ancient people gathered around fires to hear tales of gods and heroes, modern families gather around screens to watch sitcom families stumble through turkey disasters and comic misunderstandings. These stories reassure us that chaos is not failure, but part of the ritual itself. They transform embarrassment into shared joy, teaching us to laugh at what once might have caused tears.

Consider, too, how leaders in history have faced crises with humor and grace. Abraham Lincoln, when beset by endless pressures of war, often turned to stories and jokes to lighten the burdens of those around him. His humor was not frivolity, but strength—the ability to laugh in the face of hardship. In the same way, Thomas’s laughter on the set of That Girl speaks to the power of joy to carry us through imperfection. For it is not the absence of mistakes, but the presence of laughter, that makes a moment truly memorable.

The lesson here is radiant: do not seek perfection in your holidays or your life. Embrace the mishaps, the burnt pies, the toppled centerpieces, the awkward silences. Let them become sources of laughter and stories told for years to come. What seems a disaster in the moment often becomes the most beloved memory in hindsight. Joy is not born of perfection, but of connection, of finding lightness even in the midst of blunders.

So, O listener, when you sit at your Thanksgiving table, do not strive for a flawless feast. Strive instead for shared laughter, for the courage to smile when the turkey burns, for the grace to remember that joy is stronger than perfection. Watch again the stories of others—on screen, in books, or in family tales—and let them remind you that to be human is to stumble, and to stumble together is to be blessed. This is the wisdom of Marlo Thomas: that the best part of the feast is not the food, but the laughter that binds us, turning mistakes into treasures and blunders into blessings.