So wow, it’s been like a week since I wrote! I’ve been very busy preparing for the first vacation I’ve had in *gasp* two years!! Crazy, I know. I’m going to San Francisco, starting tomorrow, until Monday. No, I don’t have family there. My family is here. Yes, I’m leaving, away from my family, on Thanksgiving. And so are half of my relatives. The big one for us is Christmas. Granted, my family has taken to putting on an awesome dinner, complete with a game of cards after we have stuffed ourselves to oblivion. However, it remains something of an adopted holiday for my Cuban clan. For a few reasons, I’m sure, not the least of which it’s kind of a sad thing to celebrate, if you think about it.

I remember the first Thanksgiving my cousin, Janet, had with us when she came here (already a grown woman) from Cuba. We sat around the table, which was piled high with ham, sweet potatoes, corn on the cob, pumpkin pie—all the delicious, traditional American fare, for this traditional American holiday. We have my Uncle, Al Yoakum, to thank for that! His marrying my mother’s twin, Teresa (aka Tipsy) ensured that we would have an inside track on the strange rituals carried out by los Americanos for life. Over this feast that would probably make most Cubans cry tears of joy to merely gaze upon, Janet was reunited and bonded with a family comprised of her estranged father, his current wife, her aunts, and their children—who she had never met. This is not unusual for people like us. Every so often, a new face will emerge.

Este es tu primo, Pepito!

Meet this total stranger, who is family, and who we treat like family though he is a stranger. It’s a totally inexplicable feeling, to openly embrace someone upon first meeting them. Kind of a relief, actually. Maybe it’s part of the reason I trust people so soon, and feel like I can be totally open with someone who is a stranger.

So Janet is getting her introductory working over by everyone, of course. Particularly from her father, and from Al, who can be merciless in his teasing. Don’t speak English? That ain’t gonna stop him! She was taking it well, happily putting forkfuls of mashed potatoes into her mouth, and being simultaneously annoyed and amused by the ribbing. She then made the mistake of asking what the meaning of Thanksgiving was.

I should explain that Janet was born at 7 months; her twin aunts always cite this as the reason for her… occasionally slow uptake.

She thought the we were celebrating Independence Day, and started to recite the pledge of allegiance. Tipsy explained, “That’s the Fourth of July.”

“Thanksgiving is different. When the colonists came here, there were already people living on the land. They were Indians. We took the land from them, so we could live on it. Thanksgiving was a big celebration of making it through one year here.”

“They stole it?”

“Yes, mijita.”

“From the Indians?”

“Yes, mijita.”

“Ay, que triste.”

“And then they killed them.”

“Ay, no!”

“Yes, they gave them blankets full of disease.”

My Uncle Al nodded his consent on behalf of the colonists. They were clearly enjoying Janet’s nearly theatrical, typically Cuban dismay.

“Ay, NO! Tia! Don’t say that! No digas eso!”

“But they did, it’s the truth. And then they forced them to live in little tiny reservations, and run casinos. And now, some people even want to take the casinos away!”

Janet pushed her plate away, seemingly unappetized. “That’s so sad! How could they do that?”

They tired of toying with her eventually. But sporadically, throughout the evening, she might pipe up, “And they really stole it?”

Yes, Janet.

It’s not your fault, honey, you were born at 7 months.

That was years ago. When I called my mom to compare notes on that year, as I wrote this entry, she told me about a conversation Tipsy had with Janet yesterday.

Janet said that this year, Thanksgiving is on Saturday. My aunt explained that it would be on Thursday, that it was always on Thursday.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then howcome we get Friday off?”

I love having new family!