Courtney’s Opinion:
Barry’s Thanksgiving wine glass is half empty. But to survive my family Thanksgiving, glasses are full, if not overflowing. I kid, I kid. But to avoid (er, ignore) the politics, religion, et al. debate, priming the pump is a decent strategy.
Growing up, Thanksgiving meant heading north on the Garden State Parkway to exit 124B to 78 East to Madison, New Jersey, and Uncle Peter’s house. The kids would all head down to the basement, belly up to the bar and order fake drinks from our older cousin “Little Peter” whilst avoiding the rogue flying dart. My father and his brothers would be upstairs lobbing insults at their sister’s husband … first Uncle Ray for being Italian and later Uncle Jim for being, well, not Ray. Aunt Ann made the turkey and the stuffing. The other aunts and my mom managed the rest.
My dad was the youngest of four so as his nieces and nephews got older, moved away, and got married, the Hampson Family Thanksgiving went by the wayside and we’d gather with my mom’s family, in which I was the oldest cousin, but we all reached legal status within a few years of each other and eventually could play drinking games before the holiday meal.
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday. I think it is because there are no presents. (I love giving but I abhor the pressure of receiving and having to pretend I like a gift when I do not. My hips and my face do not lie.) A holiday focused on the food and family is more my speed. In my early 20s, I was a Martha Stewart loyalist, a Martha Stewart Living subscriber, who prayed at the altar of “it’s a good thing,” yearning to be the perfect hostess. My fatal flaw – and the family joke – remains my holiday timeline, which begins three days out and runs through dessert. It is a bit much, but it has yet to let me down, apart from the burnt biscuits debacle of 2023.
Of course, if I had not married a Southerner, there would be no biscuits. I would still be team crescent roll. My husband is always the sole Southerner at gatherings of my brethren. Bless his heart. His Bluffton-born-and-bred-Baptist-conservative roots are a hard match for the barb-throwing New Jersey banter that we are known for lobbing about. He bites his tongue for six hours and spends five and half wondering why it takes us six hours to have a meal.
A Cramer family Thanksgiving means eating at noon and being back home by 2 p.m. A Hampson family Thanksgiving means you arrive at 2 p.m., load up on hours of appetizers, bourbon cocktails, and games.
Oh yes, we are a highly competitive group, so there is always a game (i.e., something to argue and trash talk about) and, thus, Thanksgiving always has a winner and a loser. Dinner is served around 4:30 or 5 p.m. The nieces and my mom do the dishes. And then we must rest before dessert. All said and done, you are lucky if you are back on the road by 8 p.m. The end is usually signaled by me running the vacuum beneath the table at which you are still sitting.
But over the years, there are also non-negotiables that we have agreed to disagree on:
1. We will make both my stuffing and his grandmother’s stuffing.
2. We will make two turkeys: one on the smoker and one fried. I do not have a preference on taste; I am simply happy that the oven is empty to bake two stuffings.
3. There will be (inexplicably to me) macaroni and cheese.
4. The mashed potatoes are now made the day before, so I do not spend the entire day pissed off that I am mashing potatoes while everyone else is drinking and playing games.
5. My sister always makes pumpkin muffins. No questions asked.
6. It is easier to order the pies than make them. But I will make homemade whip cream as a compromise.
7. When I am prepping in the kitchen on Wednesday, he is outside or running errands. Please don’t ask me if I need help. Of course, I need help, but you will not do it right, so it is better to just not be in the house. Enjoy your day-cation.
8. We will watch “Home for the Holidays” on Thanksgiving Eve. IYKYK.
9. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade will be on the TV all morning.
10. After which we will switch to football, and sound will be off, until after dinner.
No need for fighting, words, or debate. We all know that the North won the war and apple pie trumps pumpkin all day long.
Left, right, liberal, conservative, libertarian, it doesn’t matter what label they put on themselves. Everyone is a snowflake now. You’re free to disagree with me, but please know if you do, you are part of the problem. And odds are, so are several of your relatives.
Barry’s Opinon:
Every year Thanksgiving is the same old, same old – the family gets together to exchange strained pleasantries over a hearty meal of sides that haven’t been popular since Puritan times and a turkey that no one wants to admit is so dry it’s like taking the cinnamon challenge. We tiptoe around each other’s feelings, wearing the least comfortable clothing we own, simply so that we can catch up on things we already read about on social media. We try to ignore the smells coming from both the kids’ table and the grandparents’ table. Worst of all, we pretend to care about the Detroit Lions.
It’s one of the few holidays where nobody’s happy, and yet we go back and do it again every November. But not this year.
This Thanksgiving, why not spice things up a bit by getting into a fight with your loved ones?
Yes, I know some of you wet blankets out there might shun my forward-thinking ideas, saying things like “Thanksgiving is a time to focus on gratitude, not inflame culture war outrage” or “an assault charge will become part of your permanent criminal record.” But I think it’s high time we made Thanksgiving what it was always meant to be – a full-contact brawl to determine exactly who in the family can claim dominance over the conversation.
There’s never been a better time to try out my new spin on the holiday. I don’t know if you’ve initiated a conversation with a stranger lately, but it is remarkably easy to get a rise out of people these days. Finding out why is a column for another time, but I’m almost positive that the massive profitability of polarizing and radicalizing people online to ensure they stay rooted to their phones may or may not have everything to do with it.
Left, right, liberal, conservative, libertarian, it doesn’t matter what label they put on themselves. Everyone is a snowflake now. You’re free to disagree with me, but please know if you do, you are part of the problem. And odds are, so are several of your relatives.
So, with that in mind, I’ve assembled the following verbal hand grenades that you can lob into any conversation to ensure your Thanksgiving becomes the sort of take-no-prisoners bloodbath this holiday was always meant to be.
“So, who’s psyched for Bad Bunny at the Super Bowl?”
“Y’know, Tucker Carlson had some very interesting things to say on that very subject.”
“I for one think DOGE didn’t do enough for this country.”
“Maybe it’s just me, but Taylor Swift’s new album might be her best work yet.”
“Would it be ‘woke’ of me to say this cranberry sauce is like bat vomit?”
“Anyone watch Kimmel last night?”
“Who’s up for watching Sound of Freedom after this?”
“Can I share this list of other countries that already require voters to present ID?”
“This year, I’m thankful for The Joe Rogan Experience.”
Hopefully I’ve given you enough runway that you can take off and fly no matter what direction your particular family leans. Just remember to keep it disrespectful, have bail money at the ready, and be sure to grab a slice of pumpkin pie before things get too bloody.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
