things just got a lot realer at the Thanksgiving table
(source)
As usual, my mom had a game plan.
We were sitting at the Thanksgiving table, eating a lot. Bear, me, my two brothers, the girlfriend of one of my brothers, my parents, my aunt and uncle, and two grandmas. And my mom had read this article in the New York Times about being grateful. There was something in it about how we don’t feel grateful enough, and something about, oh I don’t even remember. And she wanted to do something about it. So she asked us to go around the table and share the story of a time we were there to support someone else’s success. And then to go around the table again and talk about someone in our past who we’re thankful for.
Awkward.
I played with the strings on my shirt.
Here we go.
My mom likes to make things emotional. OK, she likes to make things meaningful. It’s kinda her thing. She hates it when people talk about which TV shows they like for more than five minutes. If there are a bunch of people sitting around together, she sees an opportunity for communal bonding. I usually see the food they’re congregating around.
I have a lot of arguments against making things meaningful.
They go like this:
Maybe we don’t want things to be meaningful. Maybe you’re forcing it. Maybe you have one idea of what’s meaningful, and other people have a different idea. No fair– you totally already thought of the answers to those questions, and we’re all scrambling to come up with something now. Does this have to be a performance? Can’t we just eat?
My brothers made some jokes that I can’t recreate here because I’m not funny enough, and we rolled our eyes at each other. But everyone’s ultimately pretty reasonable (it feels oversimplified to use those words to describe my family, but I think they’re actually right), so we went along with it.
One brother talked about getting a supporting role in a play that he really wanted to star in, but being happy for the guy who starred in it, in the end, and having a great time. Bear talked about seeing my other brother perform at the national flute convention, the day he met my family, and about watching me lead high holiday services. I talked about Bear getting his new job, and how scared I was for him, and how badly I wanted him to get the thing he wanted. One of the grandmas interpreted the question creatively and talked about the time she took care of her very wealthy boss’s heroin addicted daughter, and we were all laughing a lot (not necessarily about heroin addiction), and getting emotional.
I tried not to look at Bear, at first. It was his first Thanksgiving with my family. Um, yeah, we’re really dramatic. We kinda make fools of ourselves all the time. We will definitely cry. Bear does not cry very much. I think I’ve seen it happen twice. Once was on our wedding day, and that was more, like, “misty-eyed” than actually crying. God. Family. Why? I sometimes feel like I’m fifteen again, being so viscerally embarrassed I want to pull my shirt over my head and hide.
And then, of course, everyone cried when we talked about the people who changed our lives, and I was too interested in the stories to keep twisting and knotting the shirt strings and wondering what Bear was thinking about all this.
My aunt described an amazing teacher, senior year of high school. My uncle talked about his dad, my grandfather, who died a few years ago, and how simply and unflinchingly he faced death. I told that joke my Pop-pop always made every time Grandma put out the melon for dessert: “I cantaloupe, I’m already married!” We all laughed in his honor. My mom talked about three people (since she made the rules, she got to change them, apparently). And my other grandmother told a story about her father that made me lose my breath, it was so funny and beautiful.
She talked about him being a butcher, and about the chickens out back that she wished as a child he wouldn’t kill. “Do you have to?” she asked. “Well,” he said. “There’s this woman in the shop asking for a chicken. And I am a butcher. So I think I do.” He was apologetic. When her mother said, “Wait until your father comes home! He’ll hear all about this! Your father will deal with you,” because she hadn’t dusted the living room and turned the cushions, then he would come home and say, “That doesn’t seem so bad! No one goes in there anyway.”When she got to the part about her mother languishing in the nursing home, unable to remember any of them, and her father, coming to visit every day, holding her and murmuring in Slovak, “You are my love,” I failed at not crying.
Yeah, I cried in front of my brother’s girlfriend. It was just a little, and I wasn’t facing her at the time.
We talked about the people who made us who we are for hours.
My dad, explaining something, told us that when he was thirty-three, his doctor said he only had five years to live. His kidneys were supposed to fail. His diabetes was destroying him. He changed his own life then.
And guess what– I didn’t know that about my dad.
I’m really full now, and I feel a little wrung out. I think I know my family better. Even my twenty-two year old brother was emotional. He told my parents he appreciates everything they’ve done for him.
Sheesh. This is a guy who is mostly quoting from “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia,” lifting really heavy weights, and making fun of my other brother.
Anyway, I feel a little ravaged. I feel a little uplifted. I feel like things just got a lot more real.
Thanks, Mom.
Maybe there’s something to be said for forcing people to get meaningful with each other. It’s not a perfect world.
* * *
What do you guys think about trying to make family events meaningful? Does anyone else have a family that sits around crying together this much?
Unroast: Today I love the way I look in hoop earrings.
Kate on November 24th 2011 in Uncategorized
Beauzeaux responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 12:49 am #
“wondering what Bear was thinking about all this”
That’s when you determine whether he’s a keeper. Really.
And NEVER NEVER NEVER be embarrassed by displays of emotion — especially from your family. This is a memory that either you or Bear can pull out to remind you of how wonderful family can be.
E responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 12:54 am #
Whenever my family gets together with our really good friends, we always have a sharing question. Something to provoke deep and meaningful conversation. And while the part of me (that’s rather large) that prefers to keep the really deep thoughts internal dreads it, the conversation that comes from it is always so good.
Val responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 12:59 am #
Your description of your 22 year old brother made me laugh out loud.
I know those type of guys and I love them.
It’s too loud and wild here to create actual meaningful moments. I watch a lot, soak up all the energy.
What a great post, Kate. love, Val
T.K. responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 2:27 am #
My family sat around talking about how awesome the Tea Party is, how criminal, dangerous, and stupid the Occupy people are, and how ignorant and retarded I am for arguing otherwise. Their idea of emotional bonding is butting into my personal life in the most judgmental and inappropriate way possible. The only crying is done by my mother when she decided to throw an impromptu histrionic tantrum. Imagine bringing a man into that. I love my family, but I might never get legally married just so that I don’t have to bring anyone over.
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Elizabeth Harper responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 3:22 am #
Great post! I loved how you shared bits of everyone’s stories. I did wonder what your mom said since all you wrote was,
” My mom talked about three people (since she made the rules, she got to change them, apparently)”
It’s too bad we have to wait until a holiday like Thanksgiving to share our stories, some of which as in the one your father told, have never been heard before.
Weasel responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 9:13 am #
It took me until I was 19 to hear about how my parents met. I don’t think I’ve ever heard them say what they were thankful for. The only time any of us move outside a jovial and casual mental space is when we are upset and shouting.
There’s a lot to be said for meaning and forcing people to communicate. Aside from the ear-burning embarrassment. It’s what makes you family.
San D responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 10:53 am #
Our holiday dinner is the time where we are thankful for the rest of the family who aren’t there, and then we talk about them.
Hunter responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 11:07 am #
I’m filled with longing now! Living so far from both my family and my partner’s, I often feel like we are losing out on developing our existing relationships. You know, moving away from the over-familiar, taken-for-granted aspects and going to the next level, now that we are all adults (and presumably less easily embarrassed). What you describe here are some real moments of grace. I understand the initial reaction to being ‘pushed’ by your mom but I admire that she tried it. The fact that it worked compels me to try something similar the next time my loved ones are cobbled together.
melissa responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 12:46 pm #
I think it would be very interesting. I’m always fascinated by stories like that and once I get into a conversation like that with a friend I never want it to end!
Our family was the opposite. Nobody knew anything about anybody and if I asked questions I got non-answers! My aunt is a story teller and that’s probably why she’s the only family member I’d be willing to spend time alone with, even if the stories repeat after a while 😀
Deanna responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 2:24 pm #
I love deep and meaningful conversations. I even like to argue as long as the person doesn’t object and it’s all in good fun.
We talked about the Occupy Wall Street Movement. We were having dinner at the home of some relatively wealthy people yet they were willing to listen to my side. We all agreed that many of the people who are protesting don’t really know why. It was like the 60s when people protested just to get some good weed and meet someone of the opposite sex (or same).
We touched on religion which can be a sore subject. They are Atheists while I believe in God but not organized religion per se. It was still okay. We had fun arguing. Sometimes people get very upset and you realize that some topics really are taboo. I try to be sensitive to that and taper my discussions to fit the people at the table.
Tara responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 3:22 pm #
This would have killed me, as I hate forced meaningfulness. As you said, sometimes different things are meaningful to different people. I still remember one Thanksgiving where my cousin (who is about 9 years older, and who I idolized) spent a couple hours discussing movies (he’s now a big shot Hollywood producer) and what they meant to us, etc. Meaningful conversation comes in varying forms. I think I would have left the table in protest if my mom tried this (and she probably would). But kudos to you for getting into it and getting something out of it:-)
Jennifer responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 4:25 pm #
I am your mother’s-wanna-be. There’s this allure to making things meaningful, as you put it, but then I talk myself out of it because it always comes off so much better in my imagination. It feels like I’m imposing meaning over the occasion, forcing it to be more than it is. Wonder how she does it…
Kate responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 6:06 pm #
@Jennifer
I think she does it by just having a really strong personality and trusting her own opinions a lot. I hear that she used to be shy as a young woman. No longer.
I don’t think I could do it either. I’m too embarrassed. I’m too self-conscious about what other people might think.
Because my mom isn’t, she has often made me cringe and wonder why we’re suddenly talking about breastfeeding, again, when no one else wants to. I tell people the story about how, the second or third time she met Bear, she had a very long talk with him about natural childbirth. I wanted to die.
But I also respect that she likes her own thoughts and interests enough to put them out there without worrying too much what other people will think.
Kate responded on 25 Nov 2011 at 6:07 pm #
@Deanna
OWS comes up a lot for us, too 🙂 It’s actually been a pretty fun topic for most of the social situations I’ve been in over the past few months.
Laura responded on 27 Nov 2011 at 4:03 pm #
I’m jealous.
My family has always been the non-communicative type. Oh, we all know we love each other, but rarely are the words said out loud.
Our way of communicating is with jokes and teasing and never being serious. I’m not sure how it ended up this way, but I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to stop myself from being so bottled up, not sharing the things that are most meaningful to me.
On the upside, I always leave family parties with new jokes to tell. So, there’s that.
Jeremiah responded on 28 Nov 2011 at 12:57 pm #
I’m the only crier in my family (my mom was something of a crier, too, but it took something fairly heavy or significant to bring it on, and, besides, she’s dead now, so…
Being a guy, and a really old one at that, I learned to shut it down when I was a kid, effectively stopping myself from engaging in any “real” events that would have helped me grow and understand things better. Luckily the combination of an encounter group experience and LSD (separtate incedents within the same year–1969) changed all that.
I discovered that my proclivity for crying when I experienced some loving, appreciative and/or respectful human eschange didn’t mean I was a baby, or immature or a coward, just that I tend to cry easily.
It has something to do with sensitivity to signs of loving human connection and now I think of it as a lovely, if somewhat messy and occassionally tedious, expression of who I am.
Thanks for another delightful piece of Cake,
Tears to you, Kate.
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