When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I

When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I

22/09/2025
22/09/2025

When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.

When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I'd love to say it all turned out great. It didn't. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I
When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I

In the words of Nathan Myhrvold, we hear the story of a young heart daring to take on the weight of tradition: “When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner. And I went to the library and got this whole pile of books. I’d love to say it all turned out great. It didn’t. But, sort of, from that point on, whenever there was serious cooking at home, I was the one who did it.” At first, it reads like a charming memory of childhood enthusiasm, but in truth it is a tale of courage, failure, and the beginning of lifelong mastery. For in the attempt to serve, even through mistakes, the seed of greatness is planted.

The meaning of this moment rests in the boldness of a child who sought to claim responsibility. Thanksgiving dinner is not an ordinary meal—it is a feast of weight, tradition, and expectation. For a nine-year-old to announce his intent to prepare it shows the fearless spirit of one unburdened by doubt. In going to the library, he reveals not only ambition, but the willingness to learn, to study, to prepare through knowledge. Though the outcome was imperfect, the attempt was heroic. From this act of courage, a calling was discovered.

History is filled with such beginnings. Leonardo da Vinci, as a boy, attempted inventions that often failed in practice, yet his persistence carved the path to genius. The young Mozart, in his earliest compositions, stumbled with notes that lacked maturity, yet those first experiments grew into immortal music. Likewise, Myhrvold’s failed Thanksgiving dinner was not failure in truth, but the shaping of identity. It was the moment when he discovered not only what he loved, but what he was destined to take on as his responsibility.

There is also a lesson here about failure itself. The feast “didn’t turn out great,” he admits, yet it was precisely through this imperfection that his role in the household changed. From that point forward, serious cooking became his domain. Failure, then, was not the end, but the passageway. It reminds us that the value of an attempt lies not in flawless execution, but in the transformation it creates within the soul. The young cook burned dishes, perhaps, but in doing so ignited the fire of a lifelong vocation.

We can see a parallel in the story of Thomas Edison, who failed thousands of times in his experiments with the lightbulb. When asked about his failures, he said he had not failed at all, but discovered thousands of ways that would not work. In the same spirit, the botched Thanksgiving of a nine-year-old was not wasted—it was the first of many lessons, the beginning of wisdom earned in practice, the trial by fire that forged resilience.

The lesson for us is profound: never fear to take on responsibilities beyond your years or skills, for in the attempt you will grow. Do not shrink from tradition because it feels too great; embrace it, even if your hands tremble. Mistakes are the soil of mastery, and every failure enriches the harvest of the future. As Myhrvold’s story shows, it is better to stumble in boldness than to remain idle in fear.

Practical wisdom flows from this. When given the chance to serve, step forward. Study, prepare, learn—but do not wait until you are certain of perfection, for perfection never comes without practice. Parents, encourage the attempts of your children, even if they falter, for in their trials they may discover their calling. And to all who seek mastery, remember that the feast of tradition is not only about food, but about the courage to serve others, even when the outcome is uncertain.

Thus, in the memory of Nathan Myhrvold, we are taught that greatness often begins in small kitchens, with burned dishes and imperfect meals. What matters is not the success of the first attempt, but the devotion it awakens. A child who dared to cook Thanksgiving became a man known for innovation and mastery. Let us then embrace the truth: that within every failure lies the seed of destiny, waiting for the patient hands that will one day bring it to perfection.

Nathan Myhrvold
Nathan Myhrvold

American - Businessman Born: August 3, 1959

With the author

Same category

Tocpics Related
Notable authors
Have 0 Comment When I was about nine years old, I announced to my mother that I

AAdministratorAdministrator

Welcome, honored guests. Please leave a comment, we will respond soon

Reply.
Information sender
Leave the question
Click here to rate
Information sender