Not That Traditional

As I was chopping parsnip for my sweet and savory bread pudding (thanks for the recipe, Giada De Laurentiis) I could feel the tension building up in my body. I was getting anxious and restless. My head was filling up with thoughts of resentment. I had planned for cooking, but I didn’t really want to cook. I was making our Thanksgiving dinner, but I was not very motivated. I felt sore and I’d rather go for a walk. The weather was glorious and staying in the kitchen was a waste of a perfect day.

I found my negative attitude perplexing. I liked holidays. At least, I thought I did. I made sure our holidays were festive. I enjoyed cooking and I was excited about making holiday food from scratch. Last year I was perfectly fine roasting turkey. I made potatoes three ways, stuffing and the whole shebang. This year, I somehow found cooking enslaving and I’d rather go for a hike? It looked like I couldn’t make my mind up around holidays and traditions.

When I was little, I clung to the idea of holidays like to a soft plushie. It was the time when everything in our usually messy house was clean and festive. We fought on a regular basis, but we hugged one another on Christmas Eve. Holidays meant we had dinners together. Holidays were warm and fuzzy. It was a moment of peace and perfection in our not so peaceful and perfect family.

When I grew up and moved abroad, holidays and traditions became a part of my identity. In Belgium, I was no longer just a person. I was Polish. My family traditions suddenly became Polish traditions. When I moved from Belgium to America, I was no longer Polish. I was apparently white- a white woman. I was not really sure what I was supposed to do with that, but when I caught myself in a dilemma: almond or soy milk with my latte, a typical Bay Area problem, I knew I could call myself a Pol-CA, a Polish Californian. When I felt like a part of my ever-evolving and confusing identity was threatened, I held on to the traditions that defended it. When I felt safe, I was happy to explore and experiment.

All in all, traditions and holidays have varied in the importance over the years. Last year I was happy to throw a big family dinner at our new home because it was a welcome symbol of stability and things being back to normal after a long inter-state transition. This year our situation and needs were different. None of us needed a feast because it was on the calendar, but we all could use some fresh air.

I guess l liked holidays, but not for the sake of holidays. I was not that traditional. The pudding was ready to go in the oven, but I would take care of the rest of the dinner after the walk. My family was onboard. A brisk walk to the top of Pilot Butte with our dog and pausing to feast on the breath-taking views of the snow-capped mountains was a perfect plan for our Thanksgiving afternoon and a true Thanksgiving feast.