Sessions with Sydney is a weekly column by features editor Sydney Ray. For more installments of Sydney’s ideas, opinions and ramblings, check out the opinions page, and check back every Friday for a new issue.
Every Thanksgiving, my mother’s extended family rents a cabin up in the San Bernadino mountains. Between 15 and 30 family members fly or drive from California, Arizona and Iowa attend the event. While a lot of families make a ten-minute trek to grandma’s house, I appreciate the sacrifices my family make in order to be part of the festivities.
Everyone partakes in normal, fun activities, such as watching movies, playing board games and, of course, stuffing our faces. We share all the responsibilities, like cooking and cleaning, and we share in the amusement, too. However, over the years, I have learned to expect the unexpected.
My maternal grandfather, whom I affectionately refer to as Papa, is a big joker. He has that goofy, fun-to-be-around personality that rubs off on other family members.
Whether it is something mild or a more drastic prank, Papa always has a trick up his sleeve. He is famous for pulling stunts like waking my sister and me up by dripping chilly ice cubes over our heads each morning and holding my half-naked cousin upside-down outside in the freezing winter weather and hosing him down. No matter what Papa is up to, I have learned to get on his good side and not let his teasing get the better of me.
In his spare time, when he is not harassing us kids, he is being a total card-shark and winning every round of poker and bridge. He has quite a hand for cards and games and wins nearly every time.
One of the best memories I have from these Thanksgiving get-togethers is something that has been a family tradition for years. An uncle or grandfather dresses up in a Santa costume and brings each child a small gift.
When I was younger, I thoroughly enjoyed sitting on jolly old Santa Claus’ lap and receiving my gift. It was not until a few years later that I started guessing who was playing Santa. I do not consider it a coincidence that the very same year, I was considered too old to receive a present.
Another joyful moment comes every year when exchange white elephant gifts. The presents, some of which are jokes and others more heartfelt, are opened and then are up for grabs to whoever chooses to “steal” them.
One year, a pair of molded clay hands that one of my cousins had made in art class showed up. I vividly remember the receiver of the hands groaning with disappointment; nobody stole that silly gift. The next year, the whole family absolutely roared with laughter as the hands showed up again during the game.
Although everyone takes pleasure in attending the holiday gatherings, all good things must come to an end, and the same is true of Thanksgiving week. The last day at the cabin is filled with the adults fluttering around, cleaning bathrooms, bedrooms and the kitchen and ordering their children to pick up their mess.
The reason these memories are so special to me is because of the effort my family members contribute. It takes a lot of planning to get the event to run smoothly.
I truly appreciate those who make the extra effort by baking pumpkin pie from scratch instead of from the can. Or another family who may fly out from Iowa to visit people have not seen for years. The work everyone puts into Thanksgiving makes it invaluable to me. I will never forget the memories I have made during these visits and the bonds I have formed with otherwise distant relations.
