Spending Thanksgiving with my family this year made me feel more connected to my roots than ever. I guess you could say my family is the typical, “traditional” American family. My grandparents are the type of people who founded this country. You know what I’m talking about. The white, wealthy, stuck in their way, hard working, and republican type. As a student I often hear about inequalities in society and there seems to be a lot of animosity towards this type of person, but it is hard for me to join in the banter because I know this type very well, they are my family. My family dates back to the Mayflower. I am related to John Irish, one of the people aboard the Mayflower. Despite everything, this is something I am proud of.
When I say despite everything I’m talking about despite the fact that thanksgiving didn’t occur exactly how I was taught as a kid and despite the fact that the white people coming to America was probably the worst thing that happened to the Native Americans. In fact in school today kids aren’t celebrating the pilgrims anymore, now it is politically correct to celebrate the just Native Americans.
I will never forget the pilgrims though, and when I visit my family I will never forget how much we as a nation have changed and progressed.
I spent thanksgiving in Carmel Valley where my Mom’s parents have a house. My Dad’s dad also came with his girlfriend. My Mom’s aunt and uncle were also there, and my now very pregnant aunt came too. The black sheep’s of the group were my grandma’s friend’s daughter and husband who live in San Francisco. They were obviously liberal and lived there life the exact opposite way my grandparents believe in. The next morning when they were gone I was shocked to hear that everyone over the age of 60 thought that this couple was just ranting the whole night. I didn’t hear any ranting, but it just shows how different the generations are.
Celebrating thanksgiving for me is supposed to be about family and really appreciating the family you have and being thankful for everything, but this year it felt like just another meal, but with more people and food. This year I was more afraid of keeping my dog away from my grandpa so he wouldn’t bother him, more than I was focused on family. No one waited for everyone to get to the table to start eating; no one gave a speech or a nice toast. Everything was status quo just the way they like it.
My real thanksgiving happened two days before the actual event. My sister, her boyfriend and I drove to Fremont from Sacramento to go home for the holiday. My sister had work black Friday at 3:30am so she wasn’t going to be able to go to Carmel for thanksgiving. She didn’t even know if she was going to be able to go home at all, so it was a last minute trip. As we were about to leave Sacramento I text my Mom and told her we were on our way home. Two hours later when we arrived at the house there was a turkey in one oven, a pumpkin pie in the other, and a fruit salad in the fridge. My Mom wanted my sister to have a thanksgiving with the family. This is what thanksgiving is about to me love, and despite everything I love my white, wealthy, stuck in their way, hard working, republican type grandparents. And although they are stuck in their ways they make me remember where I came from, which is another thing important to me on thanksgiving.
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