Thanksgiving Dinner
Twenty four adults. One teen. One infant. Two perfect baker’s dozens. Four generations. All gathered for Thanksgiving dinner. Delicious food, generously prepared by a few, provided distraction from conflicts hovering at the margins of the room. Round robin. The conversational baton passed from person to person.
“I love the mushroom dish!”
“It’s not Thanksgiving without it. Grandma used to make it every year.”
“This turkey is perfect. Do you cook it in a bag?”
Delight and gratitude for the savory food gave way to affectionate banter – age, perspective, relationships, future plans – festive and warm. Until it wasn’t. Until the power shifted. A mid-level senior, a powerhouse in the social pecking order took the floor. The broadcast ensued.
“You’re crazy for moving before you have a job lined up. What are you thinking?! … Give that baby a cup. I can’t believe you’re still hauling bottles around. That’s the problem these days. Kids never grow up. What do they call it, boomerang kids. Helicopter parents. No responsibility. Hopeless, lazy and always on the cell phone. It’s no wonder the world is falling apart. … There’s a conspiracy, you know…”
The monotonous drone of unwelcome, unsolicited viewpoints filled the room. Free flowing conversation stopped. Polite tolerance immobilized each moment. I watched, pondering quiet collisions. Generations lined up according to the rules: Wiser elders deflected the whacks that landed harder as the monologue gained momentum. Rephrasing. Translating. Softening the edges. Younger generations gave each other the side eye. Eyes rolled. Teeth clenched. The chasm widened, piled full of inflammatory, oblivious commentary. Waves of conflict cowered below the surface.
Dinner ended. Gathering and washing dishes began; carried out by the same few. Friends thanked all for the meal and zipped away. Rescued by the cool, night air. Deeply breathing in the thinking space.
Family members fled. Safe groups huddled. In bedrooms. In sitting areas. Around a fire pit. Rescued by the distractions of nighttime routines. Drama lingered in the review, echoing the holiday script.
“Could you believe your ears? What nerve. I’m not doing this again. Never again… ”
My thoughts?
1. If someone is interested in my perspective, they’ll ask. Until they do, my job is to listen and learn.
2. The biology of family doesn’t confer or mandate friendship. Closeness and connectivity are not birthrights. They’re earned through trust gained by listening more and speaking less.
3. Most people do not care what I think. If they do, they’re probably clever enough to find me here or they will ask me in the moment.
4. If I have something to say that actually matters, then I’d better be brave enough to write it and make it public.
5. Exploiting the politeness of others by broadcasting unsolicited opinions at social gatherings is rude.
Breaking bread without breaking your spirit
For countless reasons, people immerse within toxic experiences year after year. Weighing the pros and cons, sometimes it’s the best choice. When it is, donning a little social armor can deflect harm.
1. Use the buddy system. If family tradition includes you serving as the emotional crash dummy, bring a friend to help you steer away from collisions and to cushion the impact when they occur.
2. Protect your children. Give them the tools and permission to escape and manage the misbehavior of family members. Make it explicit. Make it clear. Make it simple. Have their back. Give them reasons to trust you. That might mean taking some heat for giving them room to be themselves.
3. (S)Pace yourself. Spread out and limit the exposure by controlling what you can. Maybe it costs more to stay at a hotel. Maybe you’ll take some heat for it the choice. Do it if it makes sense.
If it’s outside of your budget, request the most isolated quarters in the house.
4. Create a mantra.
5. Nostalgia-proof your recall. As soon as the festivities settle and you’re feeling the echo of the experience, capture your thoughts and feelings in a letter to yourself. Be honest. Be open. Try to drop the filter. Savor and capture the beauty. Be real. Capture the painful realities, too. Then commit to a conclusion. Was the satisfaction worth the strife? Make a recommendation to yourself for next year.
6. Reject the mythology of madness. No rule says you’re duty bound to immerse yourself within a toxic environment. Internalize that idea.
