Food for thought

Emmy Jansen
MSMU Class of 2023

(11/2019) As the fourth of five kids, home was always a bustling, busy place and holidays were no exception. Hours spent crammed into the kitchen, an extra folding table set up because the counters didn’t have enough room to hold all the parts of the meal. Relatives we saw often and relatives we didn’t see often enough with their cars parked in the grass and gravel out front like at the county fair. I remember keeping after my mom’s heels, constantly bugging her to help even though she had plenty of hands between my aunts and other siblings. I loved family gatherings, and I still do. Being on the younger half of my family, with siblings and cousins starting adulthood when I was starting middle school, I was always shoved at the kid’s table with my much younger family members. We’d eat our kid’s menu version of the meals, usually just turkey, stuffing, and a vegetable our parents could convince us to try. Sipping apple juice out of plastic festive wine glasses, all of us just trying to feel older than we were for as long as we could. After all the other kids had finished their food and gone off to play, I’d sneak into the other room and grab an empty seat at the adult’s table. I would just listen. It didn’t matter what they said, whether it was politics, family history, or drama in the daily life; I would sit silently, swinging my feet off the chair and watch my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents talk for hours on end.

Now that I’m older, siblings have moved out and relatives have moved farther and farther away. Holidays are no longer big occasions that require hours of preparing and planning since the attendance gets smaller and smaller every year. I’m old enough now to not just listen to the family that is there but I’m able to partake in the conversation. This year, I’ll be the one coming from far away and only staying for the holiday break. Things are different, but things are good.

For Thanksgiving, my family doesn’t have any traditions that are unlike the typical ones most families share: carving the turkey, breaking the wishbone, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. But the holiday itself is a tradition. Some years, it was the only time I saw certain relatives, who lived too far or were too busy to come visit any other time. Coming from a big Catholic family, family was one of the most important things there was. Since the first generation of French-Canadian immigrants stepped onto American soil, we’ve been making our roots here. In a short amount of time, we’ve spread across the country, stopping in almost half of the states to make a temporary home. I’ve become the product of a Californian dad and brother, Connecticut mom, Coloradan sister, and two other Virginian siblings like me. And now, as I write this in my Maryland dorm room, I feel myself growing new roots here. Where we’ve come from is important, but just as important is where we will go next.

As the season changes, I find myself thinking about all the holiday seasons still to come: Where will I be? Will I become part of the thousands of people traveling across the country to visit relatives and friends they only see once a year? What traditions will become a part of our lives now that things are constantly changing? It’s a terrifying thought at times, one that I’m sure other first year students are feeling. Things are going to be different, but things are going to be good.

There is something to be admired about doing things the way they’ve always been done. There’s a security in knowing what is going to happen, having something to look forward to year after year. Having traditions and rituals we celebrate generation after generation connects us to family past, present, and future, which is a huge part of who we are. As the saying goes, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

However, there is something remarkable about change. Never knowing how the future is going to go, the uncertainty of what’s to come can be thrilling. It’s nice to do things the way they’ve always been done, but we should push ourselves out of our comfort zones every once and awhile and try new things. If we don’t, we’ll never learn how great change can be.

An important part of Thanksgiving memories for most people is the food we eat and the attachments we have to it. We remember what was said over the turkey and stuffing, when we’re all seated at the table with those we love surrounding us. Food, especially, is important to me. When I was a freshman in high school, I learned I’d developed multiple food allergies, specifically to egg, wheat, and milk, which are some of the most common ingredients used in dishes and products. This not only changed my day to day life but has drastically changed holidays. Stuffing, gravy, pumpkin pie- all things I looked forward to every fall- were suddenly off limits, potentially for the rest of my life. The tried and true recipes of every Thanksgiving until then were thrown out the window with this one diagnosis. My mom and I scoured the internet looking for recipes, usually coming up empty. The past five years have been trial and error, making new dishes and desserts and seeing what sticks. Some of it we decide never to make again, some we enjoyed so much that we make year-round. Would we still have tried these new things if I didn’t develop these allergies? Probably not. But now we have a new Thanksgiving tradition: trying new things and making new memories that are totally unlike the ones we’ve had before. Things are different, but things are good.

It’s important to remember where we’ve come from. We can never forget our roots, what makes us who we are, and those who were with us along the way. It defines who we are and gives us the basis to move forward. We look back on years, good and bad. Only then can we look to the future. As we remember the Thanksgivings of the past, I know I will be thinking of the Thanksgivings of the future. It’s frightening to know what I don’t know: nothing is set in stone and most things about my life are uncertain. But I find it exhilarating to know that I’ll be spending the next few years figuring it all out. I may not know now, but I will. Things will be different, but things will be good.

Read other articles by Emmy Jansen