Everyone has a quirky tradition, whether it’s a festival of airborne tomatoes or, on a more personal level, the annual family Turkey Bowl football game where athletic aspirations collide with digestive overconfidence. But what is tradition, really? Is it the cultural glue holding the fabric together, or just the path of least resistance our ancestors took to avoid thinking up new ideas every November?
The pathology of tradition—its weird way of infecting one generation after another—might owe more to our need for predictability than reverence for the past. Kids crave routine, not chaos, which is why family rituals—like the Turkey Bowl—become identity markers faster than grandma can yell “fumble!”.
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