Where would we be without division? Would we even have an identity without choosing one side or the other? Our lives are made up of choosing a “thing” and becoming loyal to it – everything from sports teams, politics, religion, social status, and fried or baked turkey. You name it, and humans can pick it apart.

Oddly enough, seeing eye to eye doesn’t always bring people closer together; it just categorizes us. Divided opinions, on the other hand, seem to emulsify our dispositions.

Take the Egg Bowl, for example. When that beloved football matchup rolls around, we are woven into a tapestry of red and blue, maroon and white. It shrouds us with ambivalence. Many of us will be prompted to text or call an old friend or distant family member just to discuss the upcoming game. A sort of collateral beauty emerges in light of the rivalry – a kinship like no other. Divided on the gridiron, but united in Mississippi.

Football isn’t the only topic that draws a line in the sand. We can always count on cranberry sauce to perpetuate our differences.
Does your rich red-colored accoutrement have ring imprints on its gelatinous surface, or is it like jam with bits and pieces of berry in it? There is truly no happy medium. Of course, there are recipes for gourmet versions floating around the internet, but any respectable Southerner knows there are only two real options for that coveted cranberry concoction: the kind that jiggles or the kind that doesn’t.

I once read somewhere that we fight and argue to feel closer and heard – the ego’s plea for love. If that’s the case, we are really bad at love. We lose it in all the noise, only to seek it out through altercation. It shouldn’t come at such a price.

I don’t think it’s lost on anyone that to love is inherently human. I often spend time around people whose view on the human condition is a far cry from mine. But I never dismiss the opportunity to know them and care for them just because they don’t think like me. We are made up of so much more than what sets us apart.

Ultimately, most of us are good, and that’s a really good thing. When we say hurtful things or close our minds in spite of our hearts, it always feels bad and robs us of our good.

Throughout my life, I’ve been guilty of emotionally hurting others when I shouldn’t have. I never received the outcome I expected when I chose to harm another with my words. If only we could see how obtuse it is to think that wounding words will change another’s mind.

Being united amidst division should be our default setting. Like it or not, our differences will always play first chair. Whether small or large, our converging yet contradictory views are what make us Mississippians.

For example, we have the Egg Bowl, and fried or baked turkey. Marshmallows should go atop sweet potatoes, but for some, they have no place. The cranberry conundrum will never go unmentioned. And the divisiveness of religion and politics is an ever-burning flame – we should argue these topics with grace, but never at our Thanksgiving table.

This coming Friday, I’ll be rooting for the Rebels in the Egg Bowl, per usual. My wife, Shannon, would just be happy with a tie. Perhaps because she attended Mississippi State, graduated from Southern Miss, and married an Ole Miss Rebel. If I know her, she’ll be shopping for Black Friday deals online and avoiding the whole thing altogether. Can you really blame her?

I think we can agree that we’ll always disagree. Conflict is our cry for connection, and it has a place when not fanatical. None of us are necessarily right or wrong, but at the very least, we should agree to be thankful.

The holidays are a special time for families, but for some, this time of year is painful and confusing. Life is far from perfect, and dishonest harmony can often replace healthy get-togethers. But why not make an effort? When I don’t understand or agree with something or someone, especially in regard to my family, I try to remember my favorite quote from the movie A River Runs Through It: “Each of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give or, more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and know who elude us. But we can still love them – we can love completely without complete understanding.”

Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist. Email him at [email protected].