Reflections on Thanksgiving
When asked what my favorite holiday was a couple years back, I replied, "Thanksgiving," without giving it much thought. Right after the conversation, I had to reflect: I remembered HATING Thanksgiving when I was a kid. Oddly textured foods like stuffing and sliceable, jellied cranberry sauce? Uncomfortable polos, unbreathable khakis, and prickly dress socks? To top it off, no presents or candy??? No thanks.
Now, though, Thanksgiving seems to get better and better. In the Northeast, Thanksgiving brings with it those first sweet moments where the outdoors are just cold enough to make the indoors feel homey (kind of like the fall edition of the novel sensation of early spring sunshine hitting your back on a walk or a bike ride). Nothing like a season transition to remind you of hedonic adaptation XD
Well, Jack, if Thanksgiving gets better every year, how did it improve this year?
We held Thanksgiving 2024 at my aunt's, and ~28 people showed. With such a crowd, I wasn't able to speak to everyone. In the interactions I did have, one interesting thing occurred. I noticed that as I have grown older, it has become easier to tell how everyone in my extended family is doing. By "doing," I simply mean: How are they feeling? What challenges or opportunities are they currently facing? What are they looking forward to? What are they worried about?
Unfortunately, my window into the lives of my family members was mostly bleak this year. So-and-so is stressed about finances. Another seems to be stressed about the job search. One couple seems to have handled someone's death poorly. So-and-so's corporate life has driven them to new neurotic heights. Worse still, I can see how certain parents' unresolved gunk may manifest in their children as traumas. I know of no kind of pie that makes that easier to swallow...
Why did those heavy insights (note that I am aware I could be projecting or misreading) not break my streak of ever-improving Thanksgivings? Surely my sense of fun is not so morbid as to still find joy in the game of reading people, let alone family, when the outlook is so poor?
I realized that even if I only get to see someone once a year, I still have the power to support them. In that sense, being there for my family is achievable, and not being there for my family is inexcusable. Such a realization is both empowering and scary, but I guess that's part of growing up.