(Not) Home for the Holidays

To say that I am a stickler for preserving family traditions is an understatement. As my family and friends know, I’m not exactly adept at change — especially between the dates of November 23^rd through January 1^st.  

I didn’t realize how renowned my holiday fervor (er, obsession?) was until my college roommates and I were decorating our suite for Christmas. We had a tree, wreaths, and ornaments strewn all over the living room. I left the room to get something (probably another six-pack of Leinenkugels, our favorite holiday beer) and when I came back…the decorations were exactly as I left them. My roommates just stared at me for a minute, until one of them finally broke down and said: “We didn’t want to do anything without you here, in case we didn’t do it right!”  

No you may NOT help me decorate! Okay fine...but only if you wear the antlers.

As the first big event of the holiday season, Thanksgiving embodies so many of the traditions that my family holds dear (and that I clutch white-knuckled). We have Thanksgiving at my house in Topsham with the whole family, and I mean the whole family — both sides, all cousins, aunts, uncles, two sets of grandparents, and always a few friends. This in itself is my most cherished family tradition, one that my grandparents instilled in my parents when they were kids: there is always room at our table for one more chair.

(Some of) the fam at the annual Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot. We have uniforms.

In fact, our Thanksgivings are so large that we rent banquet tables to seat everyone. We fill the dining room table (the kids’ table) and then run two long banquet tables straight through the living room, so everyone is seated in a large “T” formation. Remember the final scene in Dr. Suess' "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"? (The cartoon version, duh. I don't mess around with that Jim Carey nonsense). It looks a lot like that, only swap the Who's for Londons and Levesques, and replace the Grinch with my dad (if you know me, you know I mean that as a term of utter adoration). We typically have somewhere between 24 and 34 guests, although it never feels that big. It just feels like family.

Dad carving the roast beast.

So it came as a huge surprise to my family (and myself, for that matter) when I announced that I — the holder of the traditions, the marker of the calendar, the planner of the festive table decor — would not be coming home for Thanksgiving this year. 

After five (or is it six?) Thanksgivings spent apart (not to mention a ton of other holidays during four years of dating long-distance) my boyfriend Ben and I decided it was time to stick together. I was long overdue for a visit to the homeland, and excited for some quality time with his family. So to Minnesota we went.

Not-so-festive his and hers airport food.

I was apprehensive — not about Minnesota, which I love, or his family, whom I love even more — but about the empty seat at the kids table where I used to sit. Who would put the paper leaves on all of the plates, and arrange the dessert table in order of pie circumference, and force everyone out of the house to see a movie when we were too full to move off the couch, let alone to drive?

You can probably guess the answer. In Minnesota, we spent the long weekend eating until we could no longer move (Ben's mom is an incredible cook); rolling ourselves down to Arden Park for the annual Turkey Bowl on Thanksgiving Day (I scored a TD!); and saw Dickens’ A Christmas Carol at the Guthrie Theater, one of the most fantastic architectural spaces I have ever stepped foot in (and it was the most hilarious rendering of the play I had ever seen).

Me, Ben, and Hubert!

In a word: it was family. Different from mine at home, of course, and about 1500 miles to the west, but familiar in so many ways. And absolutely wonderful. The world did not implode, as I subconsciously fear when it comes to deviating from The Plan, especially around the holidays. The fire was still crackling, the old stories were still told, and the Tofurkey (which I eat every year as the lone vegetarian) was still divine. I even attracted a few lighthearted jabs for not eating the turkey, which — as you know if you've ever had Thanksgiving at my house — made me feel right at home.

Ohh…I get it. That’s what it’s all about, huh? Ayuh.

P.S. — I'll be home for Christmas!