Connecting through cultures

By Asma Frough

Thanksgiving, the heart and joy of November, is celebrated in the United States and Canada every fall, when people gather with their families to ap- preciate the blessings of the past year. The holiday holds a special place in many people’s hearts, as it is a time for family reunions, celebration, gratitude, and delicious food. It’s a joyful time of year that symbolizes the transition from fall to winter, marking the cold weather. For me, however, the joy of celebrating Thanksgiving always felt empty.

I was born in Kabul, Afghanistan. I grew up there as a Muslim girl, getting to experience other joyful celebrations such as Eid and Nawroz (the Muslim New Year). Those occasions, especially Eid, have a special place in my heart. Every morning of Eid, I would excitedly wake up and put on the new clothes that I chose for myself. The scent of my mom’s cooking and freshly baked pastries would fill the entire house as I waited for guests and family to arrive so we could enjoy the delicious food together. Getting to see my cousins and receive gifts from the adults made the celebration all the more special.

When I moved to the United States in August of 2022, I was introduced to a whole new culture and society that I was previously unfamiliar with; I had never celebrated Halloween, Thanksgiving, or Christmas. Although I knew a little about how people celebrated Halloween and Christmas, Thanksgiving was completely new to me. What was this celebration that took up two whole days of school? That year, my family and I were invited to our first Thanksgiving in a church by some friends. When I went there, I saw so many people and so many different types of food. I soon realized the holiday’s true meaning, which led me to dis- cover that it is actually very similar to what we do during Eid. Even though Eid is celebrated to end the fasting month of Ramadan for Muslims, it brings people together, just like Thanksgiving. Since my first Thanksgiving experience, my family and I have looked forward to this holiday every year.

On Thanksgiving day, my mom prepares different dishes that mix our own cultural food with classic Thanksgiving dishes; for instance, she often serves the Afghan rice dish Qabuli with a turkey. On this day, we all gather around to enjoy the meal and spend quality time with each other, appreciating everyone and everything in our lives. My Thanksgiving celebration connects me back to my country and to the joyful celebrations of Eid, while helping me create new cherished memories.

Finding magic in the mess

By Samantha Henderson

A long time ago, my dad and his siblings decided, to keep things fair, that they would split hosting holidays. My aunt took Easter and my uncle claimed Christmas Eve, which left arguably the most elaborate holiday, Thanksgiving, to my family. Every year it sneaks up on us. Only when the leaves have all fallen to the ground and November has begun are we suddenly reminded of Thanksgiving.

A week or so into November, my family gathers with a spreadsheet from the year before, going over all of the things we won’t do again. For example, we always make way too many sides; every year we say, “This year we won’t have leftovers for weeks,” and every year we’re still eating stuffing two weeks after Thanksgiving.

Besides this initial spreadsheet making, for the first few weeks of November, nobody is really worried about Thanksgiving preparations. As the day creeps closer, however, this laissez-faire attitude slowly shifts to full-blown panic. I know the Thanksgiving anxiety has fully set in when my parents struggle to fit 20 chairs into our dining room. On Thanksgiving morning, the kitchen quickly becomes a frenzy of activity. My dad and grandma will peer nervously in the oven at the turkey as my mom stirs the cranberry sauce on the stove and my brother and I hurriedly set the table.

When people start to arrive, this frenzy soon turns to chaos, as the house begins to resemble the scene in “Home Alone” when the McCallisters are leaving for the airport. In my house, football always blares from the den, where everybody huddles around the TV, yelling at the Giants. I set out the placecards in the dining room. My uncle uses every spoon in the house to stir canned cranberry sauce into the pot of homemade sauce that my mom labored over for hours. My brother and cousin playfully shoot each other with Nerf guns while my aunt ducks, creamed spinach in hand.

When dinner is finally ready, I breathe a sigh of relief. Everybody drops what they’re doing and rushes to make themselves plates. Once we’re all gathered around the table, my grandpa, Big Mac, begins a toast. “Let’s all go around the table and say what we’re grateful for,” he’ll say. Every year as I listen to everyone share what they are thankful for, it hits me all over again what Thanksgiving is really about: giving thanks. It doesn’t matter if some spinach got spilled on the floor or if the Giants lost or if there is way too much cauliflower. Getting to sit around the table with my family is the most important thing to be thankful for and, ultimately, that’s the reason why Big Mac has made this same toast every year for as long as I can remember.