The How Matters as Much as the What

Reflecting on Thanksgiving, communication, and cornbread stuffing

Being back in Wisconsin for Thanksgiving reminded me of something simple but meaningful: the food matters, sure, but the gathering, the intention behind it is what carries the real weight. The anticipation of getting together. Whether it was the long drive up through the cold, the cousins racing through my parents’ house, or the familiar sound of my mom orchestrating a dozen dishes at once, Thanksgiving has always been less about what’s served and more about how we show up to be together.

And that same idea kept resurfacing all week: in family conversations, in shared meals, and even in the small moments of chaos that come with kids and crowded kitchens. The how matters as much as the what. Wisconsin has a way of reminding me of that.

Growing up, my Thanksgiving favorite: stuffing. Bread cubes, butter, sage, onion; I’d even chow down Stovetop stuffing. So the first time I heard mention of cornbread stuffing when we moved South… It felt wrong, and I knew it wasn’t worth my time.

But then came a Thanksgiving volunteer shift at Whole Foods, in the prep kitchen where I spent hours cutting and drying pans of cornbread cubes. Everyone around me talking about how cornbread stuffing is their favorite.  It’s the best. With sausage. With jalapenos. With Bacon. I defended “real stuffing”, but my curiosity was piqued, and doing more listening then defending I decided I’d make cornbread stuffing that year.

And of course, I was hooked. Traditions evolve. Point goes to cornbread.

As for traditions, fifteen years ago, my family created a rather special tradition: Turkey Dice. It started with leftover Halloween Jell-O shots, and us asking “What if we turned this into a drinking game”, which spiraled into a full-fledged Thanksgiving dice game with an “Offical Rulebook” (misspelling courtesy of my cousin, Cassie). Back then, the adults played like their lives depended on avoiding the final Jell-O shot. But now the kids gather around the table, fighting for the “kid version Jello-O shots” and this year amended an additional tradition singing Hamilton’s “I’m not throwing away my shot!”.

Turkey Dice & Jell-O "shots" with the cousins - 2025

The what of the game changed. The how we come together, and that we always do it… hasn’t changed.

Thanksgiving get-togethers can be a house crammed full, conversations stopping and restarting, kids running in every direction, and something inevitably not going as planned. Joyful for some. Stressful for others. Conversations can be heartfelt, some can be a real snooze-fest, and others can be uncomfortable. I felt blessed this year, since other than the kids having their moments, the only friction I experienced was my niece (Estelle) telling me I looked like Dick Van Dyke’s “Chairman of the Bank” character in Mary Poppins, because he’s old (and I’m sporting a beard these days that has more white in it than any other color).

So on the long drive back to Texas, I found myself thinking about communicating with others, and drawn to a podcast on communication and conversations. Mel Robbins was interviewing Dr. Alison Wood Brooks, a Harvard professor who studies the science of communication. She talked about why conversations feel harder than they should, why we replay them in our heads afterward, and what really makes communication work.

The part that stuck with me most was her TALK model: Topics, Asking, Levity, Kindness.

Not complicated. Just a reminder of what makes conversations feel human.

Topics, when deliberate and thoughtful, set the tone. Thanksgiving starts with “How was the drive?” and ends with stories we couldn’t script if we tried. Good conversations move naturally from light to meaningful when we let them.

Asking, real asking, is about curiosity. Not rapid-fire questions, but the thoughtful follow-up that says, “I’m listening. Keep going.” It’s always a treat to be around someone who does this instinctively, the person who opens the whole room with one question after another.

Levity is the secret ingredient. Not jokes, necessarily, but just ease and lightness. The small laugh after a slip of the tongue that softens the moment.

Kindness is the backbone. The generosity and patience required to assume the best of someone sitting across from you, even when you disagree. Kindness changes the whole conversation, and can strengthen a connection.

Unfortunately, if you turn on the news lately, it can feel like the opposite of all that is going on. The loudest voices dominate. Tribalism wins the airtime. The clip of the day is almost always someone at their worst, never their best.

And I couldn’t help but wonder, when those same people sit at their own Thanksgiving tables, do they soften? Do they listen longer? Do they laugh more easily? Do they show kindness in ways the cameras never capture?

I want to believe they do. When in-person, with family, or with friends. Because what I saw this Thanksgiving is what I see again and again: when we’re gathered in person, around a table, a game, or a kitchen counter we’re softer. We’re better listeners. We laugh more. We give each other more room. And somehow, we find more common ground than we ever do online.

Maybe the world really is divided. But maybe the division shrinks when we choose to show up with Topics worth sharing, Asking in a manner that shows we care, Levity that keeps us human, and Kindness that holds it all together.

The what will always matter. But the how; how we talk, how we show up, how we treat one another is what moves us forward.

Family first. Neighbors first. Humanity first. 

Rooted in Wisconsin. Growing Forward in Texas.