That's Not a Real Thanksgiving Dinner...

WRITING PROMPT WEBSITE 

Thanksgiving is always the same for me. While my relatives and immediate family feverishly toil to prepare a purportedly-luscious and juicy constellation of thank(and sleep)-inducing entrees, I typically attempt to carve out a space for myself somewhere in the corner of the kitchen to briskly prepare my own light protest-on-a-plate. But this isn't necessarily how I intend it - even though, as it often turns out - Vegan dining is just (ostensibly) a visible and demonstrative contest against all things holy and traditional. 

And my relatives certainly acknowledge this quiet and clandestine culinary 'defiance'. Without a doubt come every thanksgiving, I get a few unmistakeably interrogating glares, subtle uttering comments and querying questions I always anticipate. "Should I make a separate dish of potatoes for you, you know, because you don't eat our butter?" my aunt asks with a strong, patronizing tone. "Yes," I retort: "how about you segregate those potatoes just for me."

But I know this verbalized, if implied, disapproval has no malevolent intentions. It is just born of acting and living in the world in a given way for years: an established practice honored by established practice that becomes comfortable and familiar like an old friend, with little ole me trying to make my STATEMENTS in both subtle and prominent ways.

I have to admit. I don't always like being the focus of at least part of the Thanksgiving conversation, or really any other dinner really. When your diet differs so much from those around you, you have to be prepared for constant questioning: you can't just talk about the mundaneities of your morning attempt to transport yourself to school on time or that guy who was doing something funky on the street on the corner. Nope: "Hey, Joe, why are you Vegan again?"

I'd be lying, though, if I said this weren't the point. Part of doing something different is to strike up conversation about difference, about why about wherefore, and about why we do things as we do in the first place. Difference confronts us and forces us to think on our beliefs and why we have them. It reminds us that nothing is natural or inherent, and that there are billions of people out there in the world that do things a lot differently than we do and often they have reasons that are just as good as ours. 

It's just especially tough when this difference confronts us so close to home, on a day so honored for so long that it has arrived at some peculiarly sacred proportions for practices that are otherwise perhaps somewhat questionable (That whole pilgrim-native american thing? I mean, c'mon: just watch the Addams family parody about Wednesday's Thanksgiving's day play protest to get what I'm saying).  A lotta people aren't gonna like me for saying this, but appreciating difference is not about liking: it's about learning and getting to know. The liking can come later, along with the gravy. But, I should say now: only if it's Vegan.

250. What is on your typical Thanksgiving plate? Do you pack it to the brim with as much food as possible? Do you only fill it with your three favorite foods? Use all of your senses to describe the plate in great detail.