and Words
The power of love is a curious thing
Make a one man weep, make another man sing
Change a hawk to a little white dove
More than a feeling, that’s the power of love
Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream
Stronger and harder than a bad girl’s dream
Make a bad one good, make a wrong one right
Power of love will keep you home at night
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
It’s just a typical Thanksgiving. I’ve had the turkey thawing in the refrigerator for a few days; I will deal with any pockets that remain frozen when I take it out and examine it. I baked the cheesecake last night; it remains the same recipe that I’ve baked for years. I also have provisions for scalloped potatoes, it’s a microwave recipe that came with my microwave when I was in college. Slicing the potatoes into the thin slices is a bit of work, but it’s all part of the ritual. Yesterday, I also picked up a Honey Baked Ham because it’s delicious, and I want to give my guests options.
I moved to the Seattle area from Miami decades ago. Upon arrival, I didn’t know anyone in the Seattle area, though I developed friends quickly. I faced the dilemma that many people early in their professional careers face. Do I travel to see family for Thanksgiving, or do I stay put and make plans with friends? On most years, I would stay put for the long weekend, opting to spend a little more time during the winter holidays.
Though as you might imagine, I refused to settle for merely staying home with a sad frozen dinner. I invited other friends to join me for Thanksgiving. Inevitably, other friends faced the same predicament and decided to forgo travel for this holiday. Initially, we conducted our Thanksgiving as a potluck and coordinated food items over e-mail. I, as the host, provided the turkey and dessert (a cheesecake). It continued this way for a few years, with the same set of familiar faces. Eventually, I committed to cooking the entire meal; simply asking people to show up.
Today guests start arriving in early afternoon. They come in and sit down while I offer them a beverage. I continue to prepare food in the kitchen while mentally timing each dish so that they’re all ready at around the same time. A friend pulls a movie from my collection and starts to play it. That movie is Back to the Future. That too has become a Thanksgiving tradition among our bunch. While I didn’t suggest playing this particular film, maintaining this tradition brings me comfort.
As I meticulously slice the potatoes thinly, I hear the familiar music from the song ‘The Power of Love’, as is Huey Lewis’s unmistakable voice. I also enjoyed his cameo in the film as the audition judge, along with his assessment of Marty as “too darn loud”. On this particular day, I have barely enough seats for my guests, but it all works out. For most of us, the movie has been committed to memory. My attention is divided between tasks of cooking, talking to my guests, and snippets of the dialog from the film. Eventually, we slide into a second film. Sticking to tradition, that second film may be the sequel to this film, or occasionally we’ll elect Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
Like I said from the beginning, this is just a typical Thanksgiving with one teeny tiny exception… It’s not November; it’s May.
There is indeed a backstory to this phenomenon. For those first few years, we enjoyed a more conventional Thanksgiving dinner in November; we coordinated a potluck, and each committed to preparing a particular dish. As the years passed, some decided to travel to spend time with their families; others developed relationships and elected to spend time with them. Naturally, I was delighted that they had the opportunity to see family or develop new traditions of their own. However, I missed my friends; they had all become an extended family. We all collectively knew how to push each other’s buttons but similarly protected each other, much like you would for siblings. Like I said, we’ve become extended family.
This new situation presented me with a dilemma. I was torn between wanting to see my friends in our tradition and allowing them to celebrate with their new families. Though in classic engineering fashion, I came up with a solution. Why not simply celebrate Thanksgiving twice a year? Surely, any day is a good day to give thanks, right? Next, I wanted to select a date roughly six months apart, and as it happens, Memorial Day weekend is almost perfectly six months from Thanksgiving.
Just like that a new tradition was born. On the Saturday before Memorial Day, we gathered like we had so many times before. I baked a cheesecake on the night before for dessert. I woke a little earlier that day to prepare the turkey. Friends picked the same movies and played them right on cue. We collectively enjoyed the same food and spoke about similar things.
There were subtle differences, of course. It was spring, not the fall; we approached pool weather. The stores didn’t close, the way that they often do on Thanksgiving. We did not prepare for Black Friday on the day that follows. However, the essence of Thanksgiving was the same, and I got to spend it with my old new family.
Years passed. Conventional Thanksgiving dinners grew sparser as we all grew our own families and traditions. What about the oddball Thanksgiving on Memorial Day weekend? We all started making plans on this holiday weekend as well. I can’t honestly tell you how it all ended; I don’t remember marking one of them as the final Thanksgiving dinner.
Family meals on this day may make sense if family is within driving distance, but traveling hours for a meal (or ceremony, to be honest) was not worth the trouble. I think many participated in this tradition simply because everything was closed. Having grown up in the restaurant industry, opening on Thanksgiving was madness because there wasn’t enough business to warrant it. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Eventually, dining out on Thanksgiving became acceptable. I’ve enjoyed many exceptional meals on this day. Restaurants serving dinner on Thanksgiving grows more common. Yes, a number of places even go out of their way to serve a traditional turkey dinner. I refuse to sneer at people who dine out on Thanksgiving.
Still, as I hear the song and watch this movie, I reflect back on those meals shared with friends. Mostly during the fall, though occasionally in the spring. Those friends became as much family as actual blood relations. We have helped each other through health crises. There have been marriages, and kids, and celebrations of all sorts. At times, we have even mourned together. It was an honor to break bread with them.