A Thanksgiving Reflection

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite days of the year. Not because I consider the literal meaning of the annual holiday and it’s historical context, but because it’s the only time of the year that both sides of our clans come together to share good food and conversation. Our collective families are spread out like the station markers on a wrinkled Amtrak schedule. From Ann Arbor, Michigan to the north, to Winchester, Indiana in the south; we are a close family that is spread out over two states. Unfortunately, this extended distance makes it difficult to coordinate a get-together that doesn’t involve the despair of a funeral, or the chaotic splendor of a wedding.

That’s why I like Thanksgiving.

There is no schedule, and no pretense other than to come to our house to eat, drink, and have a good time. Dinner is at one p.m. The kids go first through the buffet line, and if everyone else is being ultra polite, I make no qualms about following right behind them with plate and napkin in hand. After all, this is one of the few days of the year you can indulge your self-gluttony and not feel guilty about being unable to snap that top button on your pants. If you’re late, your only sin is not getting that first slice of Aunt Ann’s delicious pecan pie (because I have beaten you to it).

The family conversation is normally lighthearted; unless we get on the subject of politics or religion. For the hearing impaired, they can tell when the subject turns to right versus left because my mother-in-law and step-father usually get up and beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. This holiday
we had six Democrats, four Republicans, and two independents sitting around our dining room table. We kept it civil for the most part. However, I did sense a muted enthusiasm for the subject amongst my fellow Democrats this year.

Another thing I like about Thanksgiving is talking about those family members who have left us behind and now dwell in either heaven (for the Catholics and Protestants) or the great unknown (for the agnostics and atheists). I love hearing my aunt’s stories about my deceased father’s adventures as a wayward kid, and my wife’s ninety year-old grandmother reminisce about life during World War II and the 1950’s. If the kids are behaving and not pestering us for seconds and thirds from the desert buffet, I always learn a new tidbit or two about our collective family history, something that perhaps some day I’ll be able to pass down to my kids and grandchildren.

At the end of the day, after everyone has left and I’ve helped my wife straighten up the dining room and kitchen, that’s when it really hits me why I love Thanksgiving.

Our kids are healthy, happy, and thriving in school. We’ve survived a year of work-related challenges, no health insurance, and a great deal of uncertainty about our future. Our beloved cat, Sophia, scratched her way back from death’s door, and is back to her usual, aloof self. We’ve made it through ten months of the year without losing a loved one, and we have a large family that loves us unconditionally.

We have a lot to be thankful for.