Another Kind of Holiday

Ithaca has turned. Long gone are the bathing suits and sandals, girls on towels, warm
waterfalls, and gorge-swimming. The lake winds have picked up and the yellow and red
and orange are disrobing for their perennial skeletal gray. Like every year before, the frosts wilt the toothy pumpkin faces now waiting out on curbs for the garbage man. As October closed, the students’ workload thickened. Those last days of summer now seem like a distant dream. But the final kick into the dusky shadow of winter is marked annually by one notorious evening.

It isn’t Halloween.

On the last Wednesday in November, college undergraduates all over the country will drop their coursework without remorse. They will head to Kansas or Plattsburgh, they will return to Brooklyn and Boston and South Eastern Pennsyltucky – they will go to wherever they call home, and they will be thankful for their short window of freedom. For freshmen, it is their first chance to share their new collegiate experiences with old friends. For upperclassmen, it’s yet another chance to engage in a tradition far older than themselves. The night is an unregistered student national holiday full of festive merrymaking--eating, drinking, and catching up – but without December’s bad sweaters and mistletoe.

“It’s about coming together and drinking because its the first big break we have,” said junior anthropology major Saide Taber.

In a recent article published in the Illinois Times, reporter Tom Irwin writes, “Thanksgiving Eve is the biggest bar-going night of the year, drowning out St. Patrick’s Day, New Year’s Eve, Halloween and any other annual party night you’d care to mention in consumption and revelry.” Yet this one doesn’t require giving Hallmark cards, unwrapping presents, or sporting funny hats. Its purpose is pure and authentic: let’s all go out together and actually feel good about seeing old friends and crushes, teachers and drunk soccer moms – the whole gamut of the townies you left behind (I recommend viewing the YouTube spoof by comedian Julia Lillis titled ‘The Night Before Thanksgiving’).

Junior Nick Spezio glazes over with giddy reminiscence as he recounts his wild ride last year back home in Rochester. The night took his friends and him from bumpin’ clubs to the house of “some girl” and ended with his mother threatening to grab the gun as they attempted to break into his house window. (The door was obviously not an option.)

“Then the girls came back over,” he said. “It was a long night.”

However, the infamous Thanksgiving Eve remains relatively exclusive in its participation, as are all holidays. It’s a secret phenomenon observed by most only after completion of high school (partially due to the explicit binge-drinking accessory).

“This is something that I never heard of in high school,” said junior writing major Daniel Golden.

Yet, once exposed to the debaucherous event, some people opt out of the scene to avoid things getting weird.

“In Buffalo its a freakin’ production to go out and party that night,” said junior integrated marketing communication major Katie Gaskill. “And the bar covers are too high.”

But then, as if revisiting all the faces of your past is just a phase experienced in your twenties, the celebratory lure seems to fade as undergraduates evolve into professionals and adults.

“For me, [Thanksgiving is about] seeing my extended family,” said assistant professor of writing Patricia Spencer. “We remind ourselves that its important to stay connected–plus I love to cook.”

So this year, whether you’re new to the quasi-holiday or celebrating for the first time, get to the bar or invite your old crew over to your parents’ basement. The party venue isn’t really significant. Neither is the booze (nor is it legal for those partying under 21). What is most important is that everyone is practicing thankfulness for the big day. Thankful to give and receive hugs and compliments. Thankful to dust off retired inside jokes. Thankful that the next day brings lots of gravy and tryptophan.

Help out with the cooking while catching glimpses of the Macy’s parade and the Packers game. Or simply lounge and marinate in the culinary brume settling throughout the home. Soon you’ll be seated at the table just as they were at the Plymouth plantation back in 1621. You’ll be wearing your hangover like an obnoxious fake Native American headdress, smiling at the familiar faces, and hoping they don’t ask you anything about the night before.