My Thanksgiving Dinner Set into Dell Hymes (RIP) Framework

Setting and Scene: Where is the speech event? Is the physical space significant? What types of props are there?

It took place at my brother’s house on Cape Cod, in Wood’s Hole. The physical space was significant in that the house was newly remodeled — he and his family had moved back in just three weeks ago. During the remodel my brother sent my mother progress reports, but this was the first time she’d seen the changes in person. I was unaware of the drama of the remodel. But it is beautiful, with lots of windows that look out onto lots of trees, and pretty, lacquered wooden floors. I felt jealous. His life is stable, one of comfort and strong family connections. Mine isn’t. My mother adores him in practice; she adores me in theory. That is, once I’m gone she misses me, but when I’m there she doesn’t always know how to be with me.

As for dinner props, I noticed tableware that came from my family (the gold-rimmed wine glasses that I hadn’t seen since I was a kid; “So that’s where they went,” I thought) and plates from my brother’s wife’s family. Notable about these props, aside from their memories, is that they had to be hand-washed afterwards. Linen tablecloths and napkins took two hours to iron the next day.

There was abundant, beautiful food in the traditional American Thanksgiving fashion: turkey, stuffing, thin gravy, mashed potatoes, mashed squash, cranberry sauce, salad: the works.

Participants: Who is actively involved in the event? What are the relationships? What social roles are participants enacting?

My mother, age 80, was at the head of the table. I call her “Ma” or “Maw.” Her name is Barbara. There were also: my brother Jay, age 57, whom I call “Noodles”; his 33-year-old wife Melissa (I call her “My” but the others call her “Mole”); their cheerful seven-month-old baby, Mason; Jay’s three other kids (22-year-old Lillie, 17-year-old Walker, and 12-year-old Hope). And of course me.

My brother is accustomed to being the center of attention. So, amid the cacophony, there was a great deal of interaction between Jay and Mom, and Jay and whomever. I hardly remember the dinner at all, except for the eating. I don’t remember a single conversation. (No, I was not drinking or otherwise mind-altered, unless you count being with family a form of mind alteration.) I guess I just wasn’t paying attention. I probably made favorable remarks about the quality and variety of food, but I was far away, just going through the motions. Mostly I conversed with the kids, joking with them and trying to get to know them a little better, but even that didn’t particularly interest me. Knowing that my nieces and nephews like me was enough to spur me to talk, but not necessarily to be listen as well as I should have. The second I finished eating, I jumped up and washed the dishes, which took almost an hour. Then I took care of the baby and changed his diaper and fed him a bottle. That was fun.

Social roles: We reenact a modified form of our original family dynamic. Three of five in our original family were there: Mom, Jay and me. Dad is dead and Kate was in West Virginia. We did talk with her by phone. Overlaid over this core were all the new personalities that have joined us since our childhoods, and all were from Jay’s domain. I was the sole representative of my mini-clan, which may have been one factor in my distance. Another is that I have always, as the middle child, been glossed over in the age-old family group dynamic. Mom will correct me if I say something grammatically wrong or criticize my hair style, but she doesn’t truly want to hear what I think of the world. If I try to chime in, more often than not people talk over me. My brother is also kneejerk-critical of me. “Look at this photo I took of Mason,” I said. “Too bad you used a flash,” he replied. That bothered me but our social rules don’t allow me to show it. Instead, I played the family game, which in this case called for sarcasm. “Oh, thank you, Jay, for pointing that out. Because my degree in photography really didn’t equip me to make such determinations.”

Ends: What is the purpose of this encounter?

It is a traditional time for a family gathering. Since I live in California, I usually spend it with my kids or friends, or ignore it. This year, since I’m geographically closer to my family, I thought it would be good to join them.

Another purpose was so my brother can introduce everyone to his new house and his new baby and his big family. Incidentally, here, evidence of his countless professional successes is everywhere, lining the walls in the form of awards and other accolades.

Act Sequence: How do events unfold? What do people do and in what order? What do they talk about and how does the conversation unfold?

When I first arrived my brother gave me my choice of sleeping quarters, either in their guest house with my mother, or out back in the funky airstream with no bathroom. Naturally, I picked the Airstream. He and his wife were very welcoming, helping me settle in. Back at the main house, Melissa cooked and cooked and cooked, with amazing cheer and calm. She said she had everything under control, so I grabbed the baby and entertained him so she could have her hands free. Then I posted an entry to my blog using my brother’s new wireless. Mom hung out with Melissa and chatted. I don’t know where my brother was. He and the three older kids were in and out of the house all day. For a while some of us worked on a jigsaw puzzle they’d set up, which was a chance for me to get to know the kids better.

When dinner was ready, Melissa made an announcement and we gathered quickly like rats to trash.

Keys: What is the emotional tone of the event?

The dominant emotion was one of cheer. But underneath, for some of us, other things may have been going on. I was depressed. My older nephew seemed quiet and withdrawn (“He doesn’t like anybody,” Lillie told me, “Except for you.”) Hope, who had seemed quite pleased with herself  last time I met her two years ago, was reserved and thoughtful. Mom and Jay and Melissa, and sometimes Lillie, carried the conversation. As I said, I have no idea what people talked about. Some of it is always gossip. They talked about my sister and her situation. They may have talked about Mom’s friends and her boyfriend. I think I recall a story about a famous person Jay interviewed. It is disturbing to me that I have no recollection of what we all said. I guess I was just focused on the possibility of chocolate for dessert, and then going out to get cozy in the Airstream, which Jay offered to sell to me for $5000.

Instrumentality: What method of communication is used (talk, written text, phone, e-mail…)? What language(s), including dialect, are they using?

Talk. We speak in English, with liberal use of family turns of phrases and other references known only to us.

Norms of Interaction: What are the (usually unstated) rules for acting appropriately? What values and beliefs underlie the event? How are turns of talk distributed?

Everyone is supposed to take turns talking, but that never happens. As I see it, there is a hierarchy: if my mother talks, we’re all supposed to listen. We don’t always, but that’s what our family code calls for. If Jay talks, likewise the others usually stop and listen. If Jay’s wife talks (unless Jay is already talking) we listen to her. Then it’s probably Lillie, and I’m tied with Walker and Hope for last. That is, our words get stepped on, while those higher up in the order are less often interrupted. There are exceptions of course. And I’m always breaking the rules, out of defiance. I will interrupt my mother, but I will never say anything outright rude or disrespectful; I am courteous with a sizeable measure of feistiness. To my brother I am jokingly rude, and vice versa. “Hello, ugly face” is a common greeting. That seems to be our family way: we insult each other all the time. I sometimes find the line between our fake insults and real ones to be invisible, so I get wounded or angry at times. But it is the Allison family way not to show these or other dark emotions. Artificial politeness reigns, while deeper, meaningful conversation is practically absent. When I try to say something that matters to me, it is often blown out of the water. I can never predict when that will happen, so I’m always wary. For example, I made an observation about an interesting pragmatics event (which I’ve since forgotten) and was put down by my brother: “Oh, big student girl!”

In summary:

• Rules are that my mother leads the family and my brother (and his brood) are second, so deference must be paid accordingly.

• Values and beliefs: That parents are always right and always to be respected even when they’re exposing your raw nerves; that the boy is the true head of the family now that my father is dead.

• Turns of talk: Moderate chaos, with some special consideration given to the aforementioned hierarchy. But even my mother’s words do get stepped on. She lets it be known if that bothers her. No extraordinarily loud voices; often several quiet conversations going on at once.

Norms of Interpretation: What meanings do participants make of this event? Are there attempts to clarify meaning?

I don’t notice my brother or mother trying to clarify meaning, and why should they, since they aren’t often challenged. I will sometimes say something, be misunderstood, and try to defend or explain my remark. But that usually leads to further confusion. My sister-in-law, on the other hand, is more polite to me and does listen, and so do the kids. Melissa’s comments are deferentially attended to by my mother, because she is new to the family and Mom wants to make her feel welcome. Melissa is also a solidly good person, and breeds goodwill. I don’t know how the kids feel in all this: part of it, or invisible, or just eager to finish eating and get away. That’s how I was when I was younger. Now I can’t get away (as in go out with my friends: that would be a giant taboo), but I can escape to other community duties and an early bedtime.

Genre: What kind of event is this (weather report, math lesson, debate, lecture, book report…)?

An American holiday tradition whose original meaning, controversial and negative, has been subsumed by our society’s need for a break in this darkening time of year. Why it is a family of origin holiday, rather than a family of choice holiday, I don’t know. My California friends and I usually celebrate the day after together, except that two of us have recently died, so the day takes on a darker cast. In fact, I did get a call from one of that group, sadly wishing me a good day.