It’s official, y’all. I’m an adult. I know this because this year, for the first time ever, Clan MacLean has descended on Brooklyn and my house for Thanksgiving. Now, as you might recall, Clan MacLean is made up of loud, boisterous Europeans, which should make for a group who do not think too hard about such a uniquely American holiday.
Oddly (or perhaps not so oddly, considering loud, boisterous Europeans tend to have opinions about everything), Thanksgiving is a very serious holiday for us. We do not break from tradition. We do a turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, pies, etc. etc. And everything is a discussion: which pan to use, how to dress the turkey, how long the turkey has to cook, to baste, not to baste, whether or not sausage goes in the stuffing, who sits where at the table–nothing is off limits.
But it’s one of the few times of year when we all actually socialize…right now, as I type, my dad is mixing his secret stuffing (chattering away to himself in Italian), my mom is reading the newspaper, my sister is measuring chicken stock and Eric is munching on breakfast. I’m about to get up and start the turkey, which will required some kind of Supercommittee-style discussion, I’m sure. I’m about to head into the living room and turn on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade (which we’ve watched every Thanksgiving morning for as long as I can remember).
Later, we’ll argue about whether the turkey is done (despite the digital thermometer, my father will *absolutely* say “it must be done!” at some point prior to the thermometer announcing such a thing), and we’ll drink wine and laugh and probably argue….just like always.
So…even though this holiday is here in our too-small-for-five (and 2 dogs) Brooklyn apartment instead of in my parents’ house, where we all grew up and have plenty of space…it’s the same as it always was. Big and boisterous and opinionated. Just like the Clan itself.
Thinking of all of my American readers today…happy happy day. And to all readers all over the world…I’m thankful for you.