Can we just get a round of applause for Thanksgiving up in here? Thanksgiving’s the best. In terms of deadly sins, if Halloween is lust and Christmas is greed, then Thanksgiving is gluttony, and it definitely stacks up. Vegetarians are politely asked to suck it on this particular holiday, as are those who want to get all Debbie Downer about the Native American nations the Europeans systematically wiped out in their pursuit of wealth from the landing of Columbus to present. (Yeah, I said to present.) If you have an extra-specially enlightened and fun-hating person at the table he or she—zi?—might even remind everyone that this country still treats Native people with legislative disdain (cue sad trumpet noises). In short, it’s a great holiday.
If, for some reason, you were the only person at your Thanksgiving table last weekend who attends a [highly selective liberal arts college located in the scenic Hudson Valley], you might not have gotten a chance to show off all you learned in Intro Native American Studies. I know I didn’t. Perhaps the out-of-towners talked about how awesome the Republican health care plan is. (“What do you mean ‘What health care plan?’”) Or maybe you got to hear your unemployed (unemployment not recession-related) uncle tell you about his upcoming “project” that involves healing crystals. And maybe your eight-year-old Wunderkind of a cousin asked you if you had a boyfriend. When you offered a sheepish “no,” perhaps she said, “Gosh, even I have a boyfriend.” (Another blow for feminism.)
Good food aside, I did find myself repeatedly backed into the “whatareyougonnadonextyear?” corner and found myself finally simply answering, “plastics.” I know, it was a lame appropriation from my second-favorite Dustin Hoffman movie, and a lie. But we all tell them around Thanksgiving. All things being equal, I would argue that it’s the holiday that requires the most lying. Which I’ve devoted this installation of humor and satire to “the lies we told.”
For freshmen:
Question: So, how is Vassar treating you?
Real Answer: It would be awesome if I hadn’t accidentally lost my virginity on Halloween, failed my Art 105 midterm and gotten a roommate who, I’m pretty sure, has been borrowing my underwear.
Necessary Lie: I love it. I wish I were there right now! My roommate is a sweetie. We hang out every night and do wholesome college activities together, like prank the boys from down the hall.
For sophomores:
Question: So, son, how’s that sophomore slump?
Real Answer: Still haven’t declared a major, probably failing ECON 100 and don’t know where—or even if—I’m going to go JYA, plus my single is so lonely I could die.
Necessary Lie: It’s awesome. I feel like I really know the campus this year. I’m starting to develop relationships with my professors, and my group of friends is really funny.
Question: Any career plans yet?
Real Answer: I’m 19 years old and majoring in “media studies with a focus in anthropology and myth.” Are you sure you want to ask me that, Uncle Smitty?
Necessary Lie: Probably law school. But not for a few years.
For juniors:
Question: Glad you decided not to go abroad?
Real Answer: Yeah, grandpa, it’s soooo fun to watch photos of my old friends getting hammered on Sangria in the Placa Real appear on my Facebook minifeed while I’m stuck in the periodical room hating life. You betcha.
Necessary Lie: It was the best decision for me right now. I want to take full advantage of Vassar while I’m here. I can always go abroad during the summer, but I won’t always have Vassar’s resources at my disposal.
Question: What ever happened to that great guy you were dating?
Real Answer: Oh, you mean that random dude who I met in the Mug, hooked up with once, then had to tell you about—“we’ve been dating for months, Mom”—because he gave me herpes and my health insurance wouldn’t cover treatment? Oh, he’s fine. Just out spreading STDs and failing to understand what the patriarchy is.
Necessary Lie: Our priorities are different right now. But we’re still friends.
For seniors:
Question: So, what’s your thesis about?
Real Answer: The relationship between emerging concepts in theoretical physics and the notion of the poem as a cosmic “event” for which current theorizing frameworks no longer hold.
Necessary Lie: Uh, poetry.
Question: So, any plans for next year?
Real Answer: Well, Aunt Marion, I’ll probably spend my days wishing I had been an economics major while I watch reruns of “For the Love of Ray J” in my parents’ den while halfheartedly looking for minimum-wage jobs on Craigslist.
Necessary Lie: Well, Aunt Marion, I’m thinking about a PhD in neuroscience, but next year I’m going to take time off from school to gain more lab experience and be more competitive when I apply in two years.
Frankly, it’s good that we’re getting practice now. Next year the questions will be harder, and by the time we’re in our 50s and our artificially preserved, ancient relatives stare at us from across the freeze-dried stuffing of the future, we’ll be experts on making ourselves sound better than we actually are. For now, of course, you can always answer, “plastics” and sweep Mrs. Robinson off her feet. Maybe though, that should wait ’til May?
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