The Rahman-Garcia family has seventeen opinions about Christmas, three different holiday traditions, and absolutely no agreement about what constitutes a proper festive dinner.
Their solution is a weekend in Frankenmuth.
Planning began on the family message thread, where every practical question became a referendum. Would there be a big traditional dinner? Which tradition? Would the oldest grandchildren be permitted to choose the music? Did anybody understand the Bavarian Inn Lodge cancellation policy? Eventually Marisol wrote, in capital letters, 'EVERYBODY COME. WE WILL FIGURE IT OUT.' That became the plan. They meet in a parking lot that smells of cold exhaust and cinnamon from somewhere nearby, with the teenagers pretending not to be pleased to see their cousins. Eli is fascinated by the decorated buildings and convinced that anything with a pointed roof must be connected to Santa's organization. His grandfather explains the architecture badly. His older sister begins a list of his theories on her phone. Meanwhile, Grandma is trying to line up three generations for a group photograph and discovering the tremendous resistance of seventeen people to standing in a straight row.
At Zehnder's of Frankenmuth they commandeer several small tables and slowly turn them into one enormous crooked arrangement. Platters of fried chicken and buttered noodles do not match anybody's idea of a perfect holiday meal, but children exchange bites and the adults pass bread in every direction. Marisol's mother remembers when family gatherings meant squeezing into a little kitchen where nobody could open the oven without asking three people to move. Her father insists it was the best kitchen they ever had. The teenagers, who have spent the day claiming boredom, abruptly begin asking for the story of how their grandparents met. There are corrections from every side of the table. Eli contributes the theory that his grandfather must have arrived on a sleigh. The laughter starts with the grandparents and spreads outward until other diners turn and smile. For once, nobody reaches for a phone to settle the dispute.
Their family has different histories attached to December. Some remember church services and candlelight; others remember visiting relatives and feeding whoever arrived unexpectedly. Nobody agrees on the best way to fold those memories into one weekend, but everyone knows the smell of something baking and the pleasure of being included at a crowded table. A few people split off to buy ornaments at the ChristKindlMarkt. The teenagers find a window full of sweets and return with a bag they refuse to share until the smallest children receive something first. Eli asks a shopkeeper whether the reindeer have to pay for parking. Grandma quiets him with an early present, a Deer Under Glass snow globe, and he shakes it at every window to compare the weather. Outside, dusk falls early, and the lights switch on before anybody is ready to leave. Marisol catches her father standing quietly, looking at a storefront decorated with red bows. 'Good?' she asks. He nods. 'Loud,' he says, smiling. She can't argue. On the drive back, the youngest child sleeps with a scarf over his face, the teens share headphones, and the adults begin debating next year's destination. When the thread lights up again the following day, it's with photographs rather than complaints. Not every tradition has to be old to count.
For this family, that's practically unanimous.
Setting artwork is illustrative; it does not depict the story’s cast or document an event.