8 simple traditions to start this Thanksgiving that don’t revolve around food

Last year, about two hours before everyone showed up for Thanksgiving at my Venice Beach apartment, I had a bit of a meltdown.

My partner found me in the kitchen, stress-sweating over whether the lentil loaf would hold together and if I'd made enough cashew gravy. She looked at me and said something that shifted everything: "Why does this whole day have to ride on what comes out of the oven?"

She was right. Somewhere along the way, I'd turned Thanksgiving into a performance, with food as the main act. The pressure to nail every dish had completely overshadowed what the day was actually supposed to be about.

That conversation stuck with me. This year, I've been thinking about ways to make Thanksgiving feel less like a culinary Olympics and more like what it's meant to be: a day of connection and gratitude.

Here are eight simple traditions you can start this year that have nothing to do with what's on your plate.

1) Start a gratitude tablecloth

Grab a plain cotton tablecloth and some fabric markers. Before or after the meal, have everyone write something they're grateful for, add a little doodle, or just sign their name with the year.

What makes this tradition beautiful is how it evolves. Year after year, the tablecloth becomes this living record of your gatherings. You'll see how kids' handwriting changes, notice recurring themes in what people value, and remember faces that are no longer at the table.

It takes maybe five minutes, but it creates something permanent. Something that tells the story of your people.

2) Take a post-meal walk

After everyone's stuffed and settling into that turkey coma territory, suggest a walk around the neighborhood or through a nearby park.

There's something about moving your body after a big meal that shifts the energy. Conversations happen differently when you're walking side by side instead of sitting across from each other. The pressure's off. People open up.

I've learned more about my siblings during these walks than during any formal family gathering. Something about the fresh air and the movement loosens things up. Plus, it's a natural way to digest all that food without the post-dinner crash.

3) Create a time capsule tradition

Have everyone write down a prediction, a hope, or something they're grateful for on a postcard. Seal them up and don't open them until next Thanksgiving.

What you learn from this is wild. You see how wrong you were about certain predictions. You remember struggles you've since overcome. You're reminded of small joys you'd completely forgotten about.

I've mentioned this before, but reading through behavioral science research has taught me that our memories are incredibly unreliable. We reconstruct the past based on how we feel now. These capsules give you actual evidence of where you were, not just where you think you were.

4) Light candles for those who can't be there

Set aside a moment to acknowledge the empty chairs. Light a candle for family members or friends who've passed, or for loved ones who can't make it this year.

Does this sound heavy? Maybe. But there's something grounding about acknowledging absence instead of pretending everything's perfect.

My grandmother passed three years ago, and honestly, skipping over her absence makes the day feel hollow. Taking a minute to light a candle and share a quick memory brings her back into the room in a way that feels real, not performative.

5) Start the morning with gratitude sharing

Before the chaos of cooking and hosting kicks in, gather everyone for coffee or tea. Go around and have each person share one thing they're grateful for from the past year.

Morning gratitude hits different than the obligatory around-the-table version during dinner. People are more honest when they're not performing for a crowd. The day hasn't worn them down yet. Guards are still down.

Keep it simple. No pressure to be profound or poetic. Just one genuine thing. You'd be surprised how much this sets the tone for everything that follows.

6) Host a backyard bonfire

End the evening gathered around a fire pit with blankets, hot cider, and maybe some marshmallows. There's something primal about sitting around a fire that makes people reflective.

The beauty of this tradition is that it naturally extends the day without feeling forced. People linger. Conversations go deeper. Kids roast marshmallows while adults talk about things they wouldn't bring up at the dinner table.

Fire has this weird effect on people. It slows everything down. Makes you present. If you don't have a yard, even gathering on a porch or balcony with candles creates a similar vibe.

7) Create a photo wall of past Thanksgivings

Before everyone arrives, set up a wall or board with photos from previous Thanksgivings. Make it interactive by leaving markers and sticky notes so people can add memories or comments.

Photography is one of my side obsessions, and I've learned that photos do more than preserve moments. They spark stories. Someone sees a picture from ten years ago and suddenly everyone's remembering details that would've been lost otherwise.

The comments people add are pure gold too. You get multiple perspectives on the same moment, which is basically what memory actually is, a collaborative reconstruction.

Rudá Iandê writes in Laughing in the Face of Chaos that "we live immersed in an ocean of stories, from the collective narratives that shape our societies to the personal tales that define our sense of self." This tradition makes those stories visible.

8) Volunteer together in the weeks leading up

Here's the thing about Thanksgiving day volunteering: everyone wants to do it, which means organizations get overwhelmed on that single day and then forgotten the other 364 days of the year.

Instead, make it a tradition to volunteer together in the week or two before Thanksgiving. Food banks, animal shelters, community centers, they all need consistent help, not just holiday guilt relief.

Going vegan eight years ago completely changed how I think about gratitude and privilege. It's easy to sit around a table full of food and talk about being thankful. It's different to actually see what food insecurity looks like, or to spend time with people for whom Thanksgiving is just another Thursday.

This tradition grounds the whole holiday in something real instead of abstract.

The bottom line

Thanksgiving doesn't need to be a culinary marathon to be meaningful. Some of the best moments happen away from the table entirely.

The traditions that stick are usually the simple ones. The ones that create space for actual connection instead of just performance. The ones that acknowledge both presence and absence, joy and grief, gratitude and reality.

This year, try adding one or two of these to your day. See what happens when you take some pressure off the food and put it back where it belongs: on the people you're sharing the day with.