The sound of ice being scraped off car windows in the morning, along with the sight of commuters huddled under heat lamps, can only mean one thing: It's the holiday season in Chicago once more. It also means couples with local family are deciding how best to split up the all-important gatherings.
Unless you're the type who wears sweater vests, spending time with your partner's parents and relatives can be a bit nerve-wracking. The smiling, the shaking of hands, the cheesy jokes and the fake laughter, the one who annoys even you-all this on a day like Thanksgiving that's supposed to be dedicated to cheating on your imaginary diet while cramming your piehole and eventually slipping into a carb-induced stupor.
Oh! And good cheer, of course.
Still, we make the effort to visit with strangers, especially when we're in a budding relationship. Like a person running for elected office, we go out of our way to smile, glad hand, tell tame jokes and laugh fake laughs in hope of leaving a good impression on the people who are so important to the apple of our eye.
It's not only about being liked though, but about staying liked.
Two weeks ahead of our fifth Thanksgiving together, my wife wanted to know, as usual, how we'd be splitting the day between our families: whether we'd start with my family's dinner and then head to her gathering, or what. That's when I made a modest proposal: What if we separated and we each spent the day with our respective families?
Immediately I could tell the idea bothered her at a visceral level. I think I know her enough to realize that a part of her felt betrayed, as though I didn't care whether I spent Thanksgiving with her. I do care, by the way; but in the end it's not a big enough deal to where I'd crisscross the Chicago area just to avoid spending a few hours apart.
Our romantic obsession with each other notwithstanding, she also worried about the politics of my plan. She didn't want my family thinking she didn't care about me or them, just like she didn't want her own family thinking the same of me. A young couple's behavior is scrutinized by their family like royal watchers looking for signs of turmoil. That my wife and I come from Latino immigrant families only multiplies everything by an exponent of three.
Ultimately, however, I figured splitting up for Thanksgiving would make both families the happiest, since each receives the maximum time with the person they've celebrated the holidays with for the past 20-plus years. And let's face it, while my family loves my wife and her family loves me-at least they haven't tried to poison me yet, I think-carving up the day between the two houses usually leaves both as satisfied as sticking to that imaginary diet. Her family would much rather have her for the entire day and no me than face an eat-and-run situation, and the same goes for my family. What can I say? I'm loved.
Obviously single people don't have to deal with any accommodations or compromises. They could just as well eat at their family's dinner or order a pizza and fries, and no one would tell them anything. They haven't yet traded most of their freedom for a bit of company.
That should give single people everywhere one more thing to be thankful for.
Hector Luis Alamo is a RedEye special contributor.