When you can’t make it home for Thanksgiving, it’s time to throw a ‘Friendsgiving’

Bill and Michelle Morton of Raleigh, North Carolina, have moved around a fair amount with their three boys, now ages 11, 15 and 19. The two of them both grew up in upstate New York, then moved to Virginia where they always celebrated Thanksgiving with some family who also lived there. When they moved to North Carolina, though, they were surrounded by strangers.

But not for long.

They loved the social, caring, gathering aspect of the day, so they started inviting anyone they thought might be alone to come and share Thanksgiving with them. Once, it was friends passing through, while another year, neighbors who had no plans. Now it's well-known among friends and acquaintances that if you have no place to go, they'll set a place for you at their holiday table.

“I grew up in a big family and holidays were always a big thing,” said Michelle Morton. “I miss my family terribly when I can't be with them. And our friends have become family … they are an extension of our family.”

They are not alone in opening their homes and hearts to others for a meal that traditionally launches the holiday season. Some call it “Friendsgiving” or “Orphan Thanksgiving” or “Thanksgiving 2.” Some build the guest list from the company roster or find invitees during bowling league.

Last year, Michelle Mitra invited a couple of people she didn't know who had no family or place to go on Thanksgiving. Some hold it on Thanksgiving Day, others a few days before. What matters is the chance to mingle and share a meal with congenial guests.

The very first Thanksgiving in 1621 was, after all, really a Friendsgiving where a community of pilgrims and the Wampanoag Indians shared the fruits of a bountiful harvest. The day has evolved into one of the major American holidays with more than 43.6 million people in the United States traveling somewhere to be with loved ones, according to AAA.

But not everyone can make it home to family and familiar friends.

A college natural

A few years ago, Marzzieh Islami and a group of her college roommates at Utah State University wanted to celebrate with friends before they all split up for the Thanksgiving break. Their buddy Austin Shepherd, coincidentally, wanted to learn to cook a turkey. It seemed like a delicious convergence of events.

Everyone brought their favorite Thanksgiving side dish, although most of them would be eating in a few days with their own families. Shepherd provided his turkey — undercooked to the point that they had to microwave some of it, as they laughingly recall.

It didn't matter. They ate and relaxed, and both food and conversation were excellent, the laughter as plentiful as the calories they consumed. Even the turkey was eventually delicious.

They had created a Friendsgiving so inviting that it has become a holiday tradition. Shepherd threw one last year and he's doing one this year in Salt Lake, where he now lives. He figures the occasion is probably going to be a fixture in his future. Islami, who now lives in Ogden, has continued the tradition, too.

“Friendsgiving has got to be one of the best holidays. It's a time to get all of your friends together and reminisce and to take the friendship to a whole new level — family,” Islami said.

A half dozen years ago, Emmi Buck was about 20 when she couldn't get home to Washington state from her school in San Diego on Thanksgiving weekend. A handful of her friends also couldn't afford the flight either or would be traveling way too far, so they planned a communal meal, open to anyone, the cost of admission a side dish.

She and her co-hosts cooked a giant turkey and a giant ham, then relaxed to enjoy what others brought.

“It was funny to see what people have for Thanksgiving,” she said. One pal brought Chinese food dishes, because her family likes that on the holiday. Each bite represented a small taste of someone's home celebration.

When she goes home for Thanksgiving, the day is steeped with tradition and serious family time, said Buck. On Friendsgiving, though, “traditions don't matter that much, although they are fun to reminisce about,” she added. “Tradition is for family.”

Buck believes those who attended the first college Friendsgiving with her have each gone on to host their own as they moved and their social circles changed. By holding the feast before the actual day, they include both those who will be able to get home and those who won't in way that marks their unique relationships.

Wherever they roam

Lilly Jan of Boston hosts a feast that gets to the foundation of the occasion, with family and a much broader community all sharing a bountiful spread on Thanksgiving Day. She has hosted an “Orphan Thanksgiving” since she was 23 (she's now 32) and she'll be doing it again next week with her boyfriend and a pal.

Theirs is a large celebration of friendship; they usually feed 20 people or more.

“It's kind of evolved as I've changed in my career and life,” she said. “I am a chef, so the food has gotten significantly better. We put on an amazing Thanksgiving dinner and don't ask anything of the guests. You come when you want, eat what you want and leave when you want.”

It is an occasion both traditional and unusual because they cook two meals — one to serve and one to bag as leftovers. The food for the day follows that year's theme. One year it was a 1960s British dinner with prime rib and yorkshire pudding; last year they served creole with pounds and pounds of etouffee. But they also know that one of the best parts of a Thanksgiving celebration is the leftovers, so they cook the traditional food, too, and package it to carry home. Everyone can feast the next day on turkey sandwiches, stuffing and more made from “leftovers.”

Unlike most Friendsgivings, their orphan party is on Thanksgiving Day itself, but they don't compete with family gatherings. Many of their guests come over after their own family confabs: “Our food is better,” she said with a laugh.

Mitra invited a pair of strangers to join her family for dinner in Draper, Utah, last year. One was a doctoral student from Turkey, the other a fellow from Kansas who had moved to the area for a new job. Neither had any place to go. One of them had posted on Craigslist, trying to find or organize a gathering. She'll find those who are alone anywhere she can.

“It turned out very nice. The hardest part is actually finding people to invite. I have checked this year and didn't see any postings yet … Last year, I also checked with my ward,” she said, but everyone she asked already had plans of their own.

Dana Greyson and her husband love to sail. They like to celebrate Thanksgiving with their family, but more often than not, they can't. Two years ago, they were in Antigua and introduced new friends from Slovenia to Thanksgiving traditions. Last year they joined a giant potluck at the marina in Jacksonville, Florida. This year, they've left plans fluid because they're getting ready to sail to Australia for two years, but it's likely their Thanksgiving meal will be shared with others.

Twenty years ago, she was introduced to “Orphan Thanksgiving” by her mom, who invited into their home a Russian family she was tutoring in English. Greyson has been embracing strays herself for a long time. Although she doesn't know when they'll arrive in Australia or all they'll do there, she does know she'll find some people there to introduce to her Thanksgiving tradition when the time comes.

Email: lois@deseretnews.com, Twitter: Loisco