My Favorite Holiday

Allison Dolzonek

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February 25, 2016
My Favorite Holiday

Christmas is “the most wonderful time of the year.” Everyone loves Christmas: white snow lacing the tops of pine trees, houses draped in primary-colored lights, cookies, and that wonderful orange-cinnamon scent that floats through your house as you slide across the kitchen floor in wool socks. For most of the population, it’s hard not to love Christmas. But what about Thanksgiving?

Being so close to Christmas, Thanksgiving basically gets wrapped up in a nice little package, like a pre-Christmas Christmas present. It’s a shame, though,  because Thanksgiving is absolutely wonderful; it is my favorite holiday! The mythical creation of the holiday is a little stretched and corny—I’m positive the pilgrims did not sit down in a circle and share squash and corn and pheasant and good times and warm laughs with the Native Americans—but nonetheless, how could a holiday solely based around food go wrong? I mean, assuming your father doesn’t almost set the house on fire while frying your turkey (on average there are 50 house fires every year caused by turkey frying on Thanksgiving!). Really though, you sit down with a bunch of people you love and you eat incredibly good food and delicious drinks, talk about memories, and then fall asleep an hour later. Sounds like the perfect day!

But in all seriousness, how could you not love a holiday centered around celebrating and enjoying the company of your family and/or dear friends. Of course when I was younger, Christmas trumped every other day of the year, because presents and candy, but as I grew older and family grew more distant (both geographically and metaphorically), Thanksgiving became a much more important day to me. These days, when I think of Thanksgiving, I think of love. I think of my aunt and my mom, listening to Christmas music in the kitchen while cooking. I think of my brothers and cousins, slouched over couch armrests after too much turkey, struggling to keep their eyes open. I think of my father and uncle, bottles of beer in their hands, watching over the turkey fryer thermometer. These days, when I think of Thanksgiving, I see only the moments in my life, running through my head like a picture reel, that  I have been so extremely fortunate to spend with this wonderful, random, funny collection of people that I got stuck with and that I call my family.  

Unfortunately, due to the ridiculous airline prices during the Thanksgiving holiday, I have not been able to make my way home for Thanksgiving for the past three years. I have, however, been so very lucky to have a roommate and friends who take me into their homes, where I witness the love of good friends.

Thanksgiving is the best holiday, because no matter where you celebrate, what you eat, or who ruins the polite dinner conversation this year by talking about poop, there will always be love. Which is all that matters in these short and insignificant lives we live.

Happy Thanksgiving, my phellow ‘Phins!  


PSA: My father and uncle have never started a grease fire while frying turkeys.