This was the first Thanksgiving in many years that we didn’t have to cook. Not being tied to the kitchen all day for the preparation and cooking—and don’t forget the cleaning up—was a liberating eye-opener. We shouldn’t make a habit out of it though, because no holiday more connotes family, hearth, and home than Thanksgiving. It’s hard to capture the feeling at a hotel and restaurant.
We did spend Thanksgiving productively. The student’s mother cleaned and rearranged his room while I did some maintenance on the car, a classic assignment of gender-based roles. Well, it is a traditional holiday. Also traditional—I napped on the couch while she continued to buzz about the rooms doing the work that is never done.
She asked the student about the last time he cleaned the bathroom. “October,” he said. “Right.” You could cut the sarcasm with a knife. I reminded her that males have a different definition of cleanliness. “He has your genes.” When she says that, it’s not a compliment to him.
We drove down to Harbor Island, near the airport. The San Diego skyline twinkled across the water while we munched on turkey at the Boathouse restaurant. It really is a beautiful city. © 2006 Stephen Yuen
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