Getting high on Thanksgiving
And other tricks of surviving the chaos and complex love
When I was growing up, Thanksgiving celebrations were a big ass party with my huge extended family.
What I remember: when we would finally untangle ourselves from our cousins and Uncle Jack and Aunt Jean’s big dogs, smelling like pumpkin pie and black lab, and leave for the night, we would be confronted by the cold mountain air and delighted by the sight of illuminated houses below—like all of Colorado Springs was connected by a few tangled strings of light.
What I don’t remember: that a group of adults, including my own parents, escaped at twilight, post-turkey, to surreptitiously smoke weed. It was their secret tradition, one I only learned about when I was 18. I was thoroughly shocked. “What else don’t I know!?” I demanded to be told, righteous and disoriented. Sometimes it felt like becoming an adult was one long game of “everything is not as it seems.” I hated the feeling.
I’m a long way from 18, and I totally get why getting high in the middle of an epic Thanksgiving with extended family is a fantastic idea. Here are a few other tips for enjoying the chaos and complex love:
1) Record an interview with your loved one using the StoryCorps app. I know, I know, I’ve recommended this about 3,000 times already, but you still haven’t done it, have you? Now’s the time. Thanksgiving is the day. Take the oldest and youngest family members, throw them in a room, and grill them about what’s important.
2) Watch Coco and then just casually ask your parents, aunties, uncles, grandparents if they have an advanced directive. If they do, ask them where you can find it. If they don’t, hook em up (each state has a different form). It’s awkward, but not as awkward as not knowing what people you love want when it’s most important and too late to ask. And read BJ Miller and Shoshana Berger’s beautiful book for way more plain-spoken prep for death talk.
3) UNO. Two truths and a lie. Twister. The old faithfuls still work really well to help people of vastly different ages laugh together. Which is sort of the whole point. Or pull out a jigsaw puzzle and focus on collecting edge pieces alongside your mom; eventually you’ll find yourself saying the thing you’ve always meant to say all of these years and she’ll be able to hear it because she’s softened by all those edges and that’s so much easier than looking one another straight in the eye and admitting to all the shared sadness.
We’re so human. Which is also sort of the whole point.
Happy puzzling,
Courtney