Assignment 14- Daniel Mendoza Vasquez

I am the only reason Thanksgiving is even mentioned in my household. After all, my parents are immigrants from places that don’t celebrate the holiday. It’s not that they don’t like the idea of it, it’s just not something they’ve ever been taught or done. Even then, we have virtually no family that we can easily bring over, and that family cares about it even less, living in another country and all. Meanwhile, I did grow up in the U.S. and so I’ve spent every November drowning in stock images and advertisements of families gathered around a table with an absurd amount of food, including a monster of a turkey. It quickly became appealing to me through mere exposure, and when I was about six or seven, I begged for an opportunity to try a turkey like the ones everyone else talks about. As it turns out, I do not like turkey. So that dampened my spirits for a while. But around two or three years ago, I realized in a very cliche manner that the real meaning of Thanksgiving isn’t what bird you eat, but what you give thanks for. Instead of sitting around all day on that Thursday and treating the day like any other, we’ve just cooked a special meal for the three of us along the lines of what Thanksgiving food is and said what we were thankful for briefly. This year, for example, I made lamb with a mint-cranberry sauce. We don’t have any traditions from previous generations to draw on, nor do we start preparing days before, but it is not a complete disregard for the holiday.