“No explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.” Hunter S. Thompson was ruminating on the 1960s counter-culture movement when he wrote these words that first appeared in Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, 50 years ago this month. But he could easily be talking about right now. We are existing in another significant moment in history, one of upheaval and consternation — we may not, now or ever, know the full ramifications of this current worldwide cultural shift.

But this is a Thanksgiving column, so we won’t delve into heady waters too deeply. When I realized that this was the 50^th anniversary, I unearthed my original copies; HST’s novel first appeared as a two-part series in Rolling Stone magazine in November 1971. These original copies are perhaps the finest gift I’ve ever received, and for many, not just journalists, Hunter’s tome is an important piece of literature that captures a momentous transformation in American history.

Hunter sought to understand those divisive times. He was witness to the atavistic fears and instincts folks have a tendency to display. The genesis of the novel sprang from an incident where journalist Rubén Salazar was shot and killed with a tear gas grenade fired at close range by officers of the LA County Sheriff's Department during a march against the Vietnam War in 1970.

But Hunter’s quest was to chase “the American Dream in action.” He distilled the essence of people’s visions of themselves and their perspectives of how they fit into the arc of history, and for him Fear & Loathing marked the end of an era, when it was “nice to be loose and crazy with a good credit card in a time when it was possible to run totally wild in Las Vegas and then get paid for writing a book about it…” I have personally known, albeit fleetingly, that level of freedom; when I attended Stony Brook I was given a stipend by the journalism department to fly to Las Vegas and report on the Student Leadership Conference. My own savage journey was full of close calls, friends made, laughter had, trouble averted, and is better shared in person for those curious…

Interestingly, Hunter has ties to the area. In early 1959, a 23-year-old Thompson landed a reporter job (using a falsified resume) with the Times Herald Record, then the Middletown Daily Record, which he described in a letter to his mother as a “2 1/2-year-old experimental newspaper…” He lasted there for about two months before he was let go for “the looting of an office candy machine.” By his own words he put two nickels in without getting anything out, so he “crippled [it] with a violent kick,” rendering the machine obsolete. They fired him the next day.

Even these days, if you chat with some of the old timers currently at the Record, they’ll tell some variation of this tale, with plenty of sentimentality thrown in for good measure.

It’s in that sentiment of nostalgia, with Thanksgiving nearly upon us, that I share our yearly blessing: As we slide into this holiday on the gravy train, we may roll our eyes at relatives who are obviously bonkers, and we may pretend to be enthralled by Aunt Gladys’ macaroni necklace. We may even debate — or refuse to — the maelstrom of topics that swirl in the vortex of the world at large, but we’ll know, through it all, that this moment in Time, is set aside for thankfulness, and, okay, yes, drunken gluttony. We’ll slash one more notch on the yearly belt (and perhaps loose it a rivet or two), and do our best to catch up with those folks who share some DNA with us, for we all share some if you go back far enough.

So, listen to Alice’s Restaurant, do your Aunt Gladys a favor and marvel at her macaroni necklace, because tis the season for magnanimity. Indulge in that second slice, give the dogs a special helping of turkey, and call your grandma, because she’s 103 and it’s ridiculous to conceive of everything she’s witnessed. Rub your belly, and the dogs (and the cat if she’ll let you), hug your loved ones before they pass out, and whatever it means, remember that we are here and alive in this corner of time, and be kind. Always be kind.

And please, please pass the stuffing.

— Amberly Jane Campbell