Marion Editor's Column: Fear and Loathing in Thanksgiving

This isn't for the families who have peaceful, harmonic thanksgiving celebrations.

For those of you who do, I applaud you. (applause) 

This is for the many families that don't see eye to eye, or, quite frankly, irritate one another.

For those of us that grew up accustomed to loud, boisterous family gatherings where politics is not just discussed, but used as a primitive tool to show one's dominance over a family member, Thanksgiving takes on a different meaning. 

We are reminded that there is seemingly no intelligent design that bind a bleeding heart liberal and a rock hard conservative by blood. No good comes from this.

Those of us that try not to participate in the aggravating, prodding or jokes that go just a little too far develop an instinctive sixth sense for when an argument is about to start, like how farm animals know when a tornado is coming. 

You aren't even paying attention to the conversation between your cousin and your grandfather, but you hear an upward inflection followed by the words "Barack Obama," and your stomach seizes up.

Mason, don't bring Barack Obama into this, you know grandpa has a framed picture of George Bush on top of his Pat Robertson Bible.

Then there are the supremely awkward and disturbing moments when you realize your grandparents truly come from a different generation. You find yourself biting your tongue so hard when your grandma talks about “blacks” and your grandfather discusses the “place” of women that you taste blood in the dry turkey you've been gnawing on.

There are also the aunts and uncles with strange cares and perceptions. The condescending conversations where your uncle said he feels sorry for you because you are too "blind" to see what really happened on 9/11.

Though to be fair, even the most fightenist of families have their moments. There are fleeting moments that become lasting memories when this odd, overly abrasive group shows you love, affection and generosity in such proportion that it makes you feel validated as a human being. You think, this is my family.

But those moments may be few and far between, like the ratio of marshmallows to cereal in Lucky Charms.

The silver lining for us isn't necessarily these moments, or the particular admirable quirks of our families, but the concept itself.

In a world where, in our own weakness, we dismiss the suffering of strangers, we feel an inescapable emotional bond with those we fight with, fight for and eat with.

That's something to be thankful for.