I started calling the big game “the stupid-bowl” years ago when I wasn’t too keen on football. I wouldn’t say I hated it, but I just wasn’t that interested and it seemed like a lot of fuss made over something that was ‘just a game’. Times change; I am more interested now. Living in Jacksonville, it’s mandatory to have fallen head over heels for Gardner Minshew II. I, among the throngs of other Jaguar fans, have given my heart to our quarterback in hopes of a beautiful future together. Even though we did not make it to the playoffs or to the stupid-bowl, I’ll still watch as it’s a fun event and an excuse for a party.

I’ll be watching the game with friends, and I’ll make too much food. That’s a given for any Polish host. Too. Much. Food. There is excess in hosting and entertaining, always. I remember every time we went to visit family in Chicago, there was always a big spread put out and we’d nibble and pick and eat throughout the day. First a huge breakfast, then the spread to snack on throughout the day, then dinner. And of course you have to finish off dinner with dessert and coffee. There were cocktails and beers thrown in throughout the day for those old enough to partake (and sometimes those not old enough but pretty close). My aunts (the ciocias… future post worthy) all hosted with excess food, my mother always had food put out when we expected company or over the holidays, and I too carry on this tradition of feeding people until they beg for mercy. I’m also proud to say my daughter has joined in the tradition; the last few years she’s hosted Thanksgiving at her home and she feeds ten people as if there were forty coming for dinner.

Why the excess? I’m not sure. I kind of believe it’s a combination of enjoying life to the fullest, celebrating family, appreciating all we’ve been given, and telling past hardships to ‘take THAT’. Considering what my mother and her family endured to be here today, and to be living in a time when they have all their needs met and then some… there is a pride in being able to care for others, and feeding people is caring for them. Food brings us together as family and friends. It feeds our bodies and our hearts with tradition and memories. We talk over food, we laugh over food, we celebrate over food. I don’t know if anyone has more to celebrate in this life than my Polish family. After escaping Poland with their lives, their family being separated for years, enduring the struggles to overcome culture shock and to rebuild a life from the ground up when finally arriving in the United States – celebration is expected and almost mandatory.

I know that as long as we are able, and as long as there’s a Polish relative (myself included) still around, we will always be a grateful and well fed family full of food, shared memories, and love. May no one leave the table hungry.