Back in 1941, President Roosevelt made it official: it's the fourth Thursday of November.

In my case, I did not know a thing about Thanksgiving when our family settled here in the fall of 1964.  We landed in Miami and made our way to Wisconsin a week later.

By mid-November, or roughly two months into our American experience, I saw kids in school putting up turkey posters about the upcoming holiday.

I asked my mother.  She had no idea, either.  I asked my father, and he said that it was something about "giving thanks."

Finally, Miss Jones, that grade-school teacher I was blessed with, sat me down and explained the full story, from the ship crossing the ocean to the landing at Plymouth Rock to the terrible first winter and eventually a day to say thanks for surviving it all.

It did not take long for me to get into the Thanksgiving mood.

We Cubans always had lots of reasons to give thanks.  We survived communism.  We had a chance to start all over again in the U.S.  Giving thanks for a second chance was something our family knew quite well.

Today, Thanksgiving is my favorite American holiday.  It confirms that this land was settled by self-reliant people who faced adversity and grew stronger.

So I say thanks for everything, from my wonderful parents, brother and sister, wife and three sons, great friends, and all of you who check me out on AT.  I may not agree with all of your comments, but I say thanks!

Happy Thanksgiving, and we will go back to the political stuff tomorrow.

PS: You can listen to my show (Canto Talk) and follow me on Twitter.