The common, accepted portrayal of a happy, joking, and supportive family joyously celebrating around a food-laden Thanksgiving table is definitely not a universal reality.
Some families despise the ritual (and aren’t too keen on one another either); yet they meet year-after-after out a sense of guilt or tradition, jabbing each other with passive-aggressive verbal stabs. Even within families that are indeed content overall, certain members of the clan might resent, or even dislike, one another. They hold grudges over past transgressions or historic bitterness stalks silently beneath a transparent veneer of tranquility.
I point out these realities not with intent of injecting an unpleasant aftertaste to Thanksgiving dinner, nor as some sort of post-apocalyptic view of the holidays. And to be honest, I also do not know percentages of “unhappy” versus “happy” families; maybe it’s minuscule; possibly it’s everyone but you and I. Yet it is true. Moreover, to focus on “how many” bypasses the greater issue: we cannot release these strains until we acknowledge they exist. Once there, we discharge them with a type of thanks.
“Thanks,” you might ask with understandable confusion; “Why would one give thanks for an irritating collection of boorish relations with whom I’m forced to endure boring football games and overcooked turkey?”
In the traditional sense of “giving thanks,” you wouldn’t. However, when one expands the concept of thankfulness, we realize that gratitude and forgiveness are actually the same act. All that differs is the direction in which they are pointed.
My mother used neither exercise nor my “minimalist” approach. Rather, she simply controlled her portions. Wow! What a novel concept: Eat well and eat the correct amount. Who would have thought?