YOU approach your first Thanksgiving Day in America warily. It's meant to be great fun with lots of eating, drinking and backslapping but deep down Americans worry whether they are going to survive it.
The President even issues a proclamation. "Now, therefore, I, William J. Clinton, President of the United States of America . . . by virtue of the authority vested in me ... encourage all the people of the United States to assemble in their homes, places of worship and community centres", etc.
The idea is to follow the example of the first colonists in New England in 1621 who feasted with friendly Indians in thanksgiving for the first harvest. Tradition has it that the meal consisted of venison stew, wild turkeys stuffed with corn bread, baked oysters, sweet corn, pumpkin baked in a bag and flavoured with maple syrup, and ending with a specialty produced by the Indians who had shared in the feast popcorn.
Some 375 years later the menu is still the same but the Indians are a lot scarcer. It's the obligatory family get togethers, the over eating and the stress that are the trouble judging by the columns of advice that precede the feast day.
"The original Thanksgiving dinner was a nice, simple affair," writes Roxanne Roberts of the Washington Post wistfully. "Walk to a forest clearing for a pleasant meal with your neighbours. Eat a little, drink a little, get home by sunset. The trip was easy, the food satisfying and, the in laws were an ocean away.
But today, "Americans have managed to turn it into the single most stressful day of the year, requiring hours of travel, complicated menus and close encounters with distant relatives."
Being America, there is no shortage of advice on how to get through this traumatic event. From the Internet you could download a guide to "Six sexy ways to savour a super long weekend", five of which have nothing to do with turkey and stuffing.
For the younger members of the family there are tips on how to have "fun at the kid's table" like having "gravy gargling contests".
For the adults there are "cheap psychological tricks" on how to cope during the holiday after "you arrive hungry, exhausted, dishevelled, stressed and greeted by a loving tribunal of family traces armed with a list of incredibly personal questions". When it's all over, "you'll have gained several pounds, sworn never to speak ever again to a couple of relatives and be relieved you don't have to live with these people anymore."
Hollywood has got in on the act and exploited this Thanksgiving Day angst with a movie called "Home for the Holidays". From the film, five rules can be extrapolated: Don't Travel; Avoid Annoying Relatives; Don't Mess With The Menu; Don't Talk Politics; Create Diversions.
So it's all very well for Mr Clinton to issue proclamations to sit down and enjoy yourself. He and Hillary and Chelsea get helicoptered off to Camp David where marines cook and serve the turkey but your average American has to concentrate on getting through the family holiday without a nervous breakdown.
Maybe it's the Indians' revenge for how they got treated after showing the Puritans how to chill out and enjoy themselves on Plymouth Rock.
So how did us newcomers survive the ordeal? It was kind of tough but we made it.
After a brisk walk along the towpath of the Chesapeake and Ohio canal to build up an appetite we appeared at our kindly neighbours' door with a bottle of Irish whiskey. The only sign of stress had been a phone call earlier asking us to postpone arrival for half an hour.
Five hours later we emerged after a splendid meal of soup, turkey, stuffed squashes, brussels sprouts, mushroom stuffing, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, apple pie and chocolate icecream. All washed down with Irish whiskey, white and red wine, sweet dessert wine and cognac.
It might seem a lot but you need it to get up your strength to face the shopping malls the next day when the sales are only massive.
Yes, America has a lot to be thankful for.