Jack: Whether I’ve given you my “Christmas is built on a lie” lecture or you’ve seen me go up for thirds when they serve turkey and mashed potatoes in the dining hall, let it be known that I believe in Thanksgiving superiority. My fondness for the fourth Thursday in November can be traced back to several features of the holiday: watching musicals perform in the Macy’s parade, spending days preparing the meal, and sitting down for dinner at 4 p.m. Yet, if I had to pinpoint one reason why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, it’s the premise. However corny it is, I love going around the table and announcing what I’m grateful for. I admit that I don’t do a good job of regularly practicing gratitude—no matter how hard I try, I can’t get into journaling or meditation. But Thanksgiving forces me to reflect on what I’m thankful for so that, even once a year, I can remind myself of what’s important to me.
Shaye: Just the other day a friend and I were discussing the phenomenon of the Thanksgiving Break Disappearance. The days surrounding Thanksgiving, we observed, have the strange effect of completely evaporating from our minds’ eyes. A week of relaxation is condensed into a flurry of clinked glasses and candlelit dinners, overflowing plates and premature Christmas carols. We remember only Thanksgiving itself. Our brains, we concluded, cling onto only what they deem important; in the schema of break, that’s Thanksgiving dinner. But our memories are far less predictable on a broader scale. It’s impossible to know what your mind will interpret as worth imprinting: a casual dinner with friends can become a keystone of childhood nostalgia; images from a walk through the woods can unexpectedly resurface years later. You never know whether a humdrum moment will be unconsciously bookmarked as a treasured memory—and it is this uncertainty which makes every day worth appreciating.
Katharine: I have never considered myself one to journal. Easy excuses like, “I don’t have time” or “I’ll do it tomorrow,” always stopped me from picking up a pencil before bed. That all changed when I recently stumbled upon the One Line a Day – 5 Year Memory Book. The idea is simple: write a line or two about your day, every day, for five years, and slowly create a living “memoir.” Since then, I’ve scribbled down small moments that made me smile or laugh. Some of my early favorites include: “My delicious Chaiwalla cake at The Woodlands,” “Hermione hilarious scenes with her pet duck in Pippin,” and “Playing (and winning) two rounds of the game Spit with Charlotte.” Moving through my day with this ritual in mind makes me more observant and appreciative of joys I might have otherwise missed. As my final months at Hotchkiss unfold, I know this growing record will bring more clarity and warmth.
To me, that’s the spirit of Thanksgiving: remembering and appreciating what makes life fuller. This holiday season, I urge you to notice the small moments, and even better, start writing them down. I bet in a few years, you’ll be grateful you did so!
