It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out what Thanksgiving is all about—the operative words are squished together, right there in its name. But for those of you who are preparing for the big day by oscillating between writing out your grocery list and panic-breathing into a paper bag, you know that Thanksgiving isn’t just about giving thanks.
In some families, Thanksgiving is America’s version of The Purge, where all emotional crimes are legal, just for one day, because you can’t be held accountable for what you say or do after three pounds of turkey, four glasses of Chardonnay, and five hours of watching the Cowboys putter around on your TV screen.
Even in the good families, where childhood trauma is buried deep in the subconscious—where it belongs—Thanksgiving can be a difficult day to get through. Not only do you have to deal with your blood sugar spiking like the 2007 housing market because you ate a wheelbarrow full of sweet potatoes, but some families even make you list, out loud, what you’re thankful for every year.
In my family, if you’re seated at the wrong section of the table, you might be trying to think of something original to be thankful for after, like, 20 other people have gone. All the easy ones have been taken and you’re scrambling.
So, with that in mind, I thought I would alleviate some of the stress of the holidays by reminding you of a few things that we, in South Jersey, ought to be thankful for. Whether you’re being put on the spot by your well-meaning father-in-law, or you’re trying to buoy your thoughts as your mind drowns in an ocean of melted cranberry jelly, feel free to use these however you need them.
We have all the benefits of professional sports teams, with none of the drawbacks. Every year, I read about a pro sports team holding a city hostage by saying that if the people who live there don’t build them a floating stadium made out of pure diamond, they’re going to ship off to a place that will. On top of that, sports teams create traffic, noise, and, on the off chance that they win a championship, drunken debauchery that makes Mardi Gras look like an orthodontics seminar.
South Jersey, nestled safely on this side of the river, gets to enjoy the Eagles, Flyers and Sixers (we’re still hurting too much about the Phillies to mention them here), but with none of those downsides.
Wawa. Longtime readers of this column will make note of how often I mention Wawa. I am not on the payroll of the Wawa corporation, I’ve just seen what other states have for their gas stations, and I’m thankful for what we have.
By the way, every time I mention Wawa’s greatness, someone from the South jumps up into the conversation to mention Buc-ee’s, like a tacky strip mall shoved inside a gas station is somehow superior to the sandwiches and service we get to enjoy at Wawa. It is not. This is the last we’ll talk about that.
All the landscape and weather you could ever want. I once heard someone describe Southern California as a dream location because, “Where else could you get to the mountains and the ocean so quickly?” Where else? How about New Jersey, where not only do we have access to both, but we also have farmland, forests, and, for cyberpunk fans, the dystopian nightmare imagery of everything north of Exit 14 on the turnpike. We are blessed.
Moreover, we also get to experience all four seasons, which, admittedly, isn’t an ideal prospect when we’re sludging through the darkest days of February, but if you’re unhappy with the weather on any given day, all you need to do is wait.
The best pizza in the world. Here’s my theory: If you own a pizzeria in a place like Philadelphia, and you’re any good at your job, eventually you’ll get successful enough that you can take your family to the suburbs, turning South Jersey into an all-star team of absolutely astonishing pizza. Whether I’m eating the lunch special at Sal’s in Marlton or the 313 Detroit Style at Polizzi’s Brick Oven in Washington Township, I’m constantly amazed at how much variety and quality we have in our corner of the state.
Andy Williams should’ve sang a song called, “It’s the Most Stressful Time of the Year,” because here we are dead in the middle of it, and relief is hard to find. But, we’re all in it together, and if you look hard enough, there’s plenty to be thankful for in this great state of ours.
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Published and copyrighted in South Jersey Magazine, Volume 22, Issue 7 (October 2025)
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