Don’t worry, I have two (two!) more Twilight posts planned for your reading painfulness, but I just couldn’t bear to write about that cultural phenomenon today. Instead, I’d like to regale you with a tale of Thanksgiving from long, long ago.
- High-five if you’re amused by Thanksgiving clip art!
I don’t think I’ve mentioned on the blog that I am from Mexico. I’ve spent a lot of time living elsewhere, so I’ll clarify what I mean. I’ve spent part of my childhood, most of my summers, and all of my Christmases in Mexico. Most of my family lives there, and my hometown in Northern Mexico is my favorite place in the world. I never laugh harder than when I am there, which is a perfect barometer for favorite place-ness, wouldn’t you agree?
Though I come from a Mexican family, there are a few members (like me) who live in the States or have strong connections to the U.S. of A. So, thanks in part to that and in part to the
Americanization Gringo-nization of Latin America, my family can aptly be described as transnational.
About a decade ago, I don’t know how or why, my family started celebrating Thanksgiving. As far as I know, mine is the only Mexican family living in Mexico that celebrates Thanksgiving, which I think is pretty cool, especially because there’s no pro-colonialism subtext at our celebrations.
One year, when I was about thirteen, I decided that in order to have a proper Thanksgiving feast, we HAD TO HAVE stuffing. I guess somebody I admired told me it was the best part of Thanksgiving or something. We’d never had stuffing at our turkey dinner, and nobody knew how to make it from scratch. I remembered the bright red ‘Stovetop Stuffing’ box from American grocery stores, though, so I asked one of my aunts to drive me to the grocery store to buy some.
All of my family knew this endeavor was hopeless.
Nobody in Mexico eats stuffing. Most people don’t even know what it is.
Still, three cousins, one uncle, one aunt, and I all piled into a minivan and drove to the large grocery store nearby.
We drove to the small grocery store that mostly stocks American imports.
In total, we must have driven to seven grocery stores where our stuffing inquiries were met with blank stares.
When we returned, stuffing-less, I felt elated. (And not just because the expressions on the grocery stores’ employees faces as I described stuffing were priceless. You guys, stuffing is really gross in theory.)
Moral: Having a family that is willing to do something completely stupid just ‘cause they have your back (yo) totally trumps Stovetop Stuffing.
As I enter the holiday season, I am most grateful for my family. Expect more stories about them as I count down the days to Christmas—the day I’ll finally get to meet my first niece!!!
Over & Out.