It's almost like a scene from a movie. As each family member walks through the door, you're met with a very distinct energy. You can practically predict who's arriving based on the sound of boots stomping snow on the porch or the breeze of cold air that rushes in because someone refuses to wear a coat. From the person who critiques each dish to the mischievous cousin camaraderie, Thanksgiving in Michigan is one of the annual get-togethers that functions as a personality showcase. And honestly? We wouldn't have it any other way. After all, it's the needed entertainment and gathering of information that fuels our intra-family conversations for the rest of the year.

The Early Arriver

It was made very apparent in the family group chat to arrive by 2:00 pm for dinner. But your younger brother (who is reputably mom’s “secret” favorite) makes sure to arrive over an hour beforehand. He's the first to show up. And because of this, he either gets looped into helping with the food prep or he sits at the counter and chats while watching someone else make the food. There’s just no in between. And as other members arrive on-time, he’ll silently judge them for “being late.”

The Roll-Bringer

This person might be the most spontaneous of the group (definitely not a planner by any means). It’s usually the older brother, whose “constantly busy schedule” causes him to be too busy to remember his contribution to the group. He’ll likely remember that the holiday is a day away, sprint to Meijer to grab something easy, and deny ever forgetting to bring something. And because the turkey and green bean casserole are already called for, he’ll just settle for a bag of Hawaiian rolls.  

The Dessert Overachiever

This person (likely an over-the-top aunt) will arrive with three pies, homemade whipped cream, “just a little cheesecake I threw together,” and pumpkin cookies because she had extra time. She’ll claim she wasn’t sure what people liked, so she made everything. And will at some point dramatically announce that she “ruined the crust,” and everyone will assure her she did not.

The Coat Denier

This person denies the “feels like” temperature. If it’s 28 degrees outside, a pessimistic uncle will show up in a flannel shirt, slide-on mules (without socks), and no coat. He’ll state, “It’s not that bad,” and visibly shiver. He still refuses a jacket, though. And later will suggest a group walk to “get some fresh air” to prove his passivity to the cold (and will regret it immediately).

The Turkey Connoisseur

This person is definitely the millennial of the family. He’s watched one tutorial on the Food Network and instantly considered himself a poultry engineer. He’s collected strong opinions about brining, deep frying, baste frequency, resting time, and the correct internal temperature “recommended by real chefs.” (He will assuredly overcook the turkey and everyone will blame him.)

The Lions Loyalist

For this person, Thanksgiving isn’t about family. It’s about the Detroit Lions. In the span of a few hours, ol’ Uncle Bob will experience the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and pie. He will yell at the television, get up from his recliner on multiple occasions, sit back down, and maybe fall asleep during halftime. He will shush people if he can’t hear a call and will declare, “This is our year,” regardless of actual evidence. And usually, other family members (some who know absolutely nothing about football) will sit there and become instant, expert sports analysts.

The Kitchen General

This person is constantly stressed, with beads of sweat collecting on her forehead. Aunt Lysa will tell you, “I don’t need your help, you’ll just get in my way.” Then, at some point, she’ll become furious that nobody is helping. She’s been in the kitchen since 6 am (after her 5 am Pilates class on television) and will not sit down until the meal actually begins. And when you bring your dish to fix up before serving time, she’ll linger over your shoulder to make sure it’s being done “correctly.”

The “Made From Scratch” Traditionalist

This person brings the same exact dish every year. It’s either a beloved favorite or feared disinterest. These specific dishes are known as green bean casserole, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, or that mysterious Jell-O creation with fruit and pretzels. The recipe will never be shared since it’s “been in the family for generations.” And sometimes, everyone just knows it's a copy and paste from Pinterest.

The Crockpot Parade

This person will bring multiple crockpots with mystery foods that “we just had to try this year." Her lineup will require three outlets and a power strip. And most of the time it will all be brought back home with her because people are too scared to try the newfound recipes.

‍The Dog Feeder

This person is way more excited to see the family dogs over the actual family members. It’s usually the grandkid who will secretly give the dog turkey under the table even after receiving very clear instructions not to. He’ll stay glued to the dog the entire evening claiming, “We’re best friends now.” And when it’s time to leave, there will be a very heartfelt, dramatic goodbye that includes hugging the dog (who has a very uncomfortable look on its face) and requesting to make frequent visits in the future to see the dog.

Dresses Up The Dog

This person is not the grandkid mentioned earlier. It’s the teenager whose trendy idea from TikTok falls onto the poor dog: dressing him up with a turkey hat. He’ll attempt to take aesthetic or funny videos as the dog suffers with the flimsy cap upon its head. Everyone else will say, “Just leave the dog alone” or “Is that really necessary?”

The Political Provocateur

This person is just looking to brew up trouble (and will deny it). It’s usually the new college freshman or the Facebook-addict of the family. Either one of them will casually drop, “So what does everyone think about…” right as the turkey is being carved. The whole family will sit there, wide-eyed, unsure of what to say as they stuff their mouths with mashed potatoes.

The Container Collector

This person isn’t looking to cook for at least another week. She’ll come prepared with old Cool Whip and I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! containers to pack up five pounds of leftovers to feed the family through next week.

The Post-Meal Walker

This person is likely on the younger side of the family (or is an avid “almond mom”). She probably ran the turkey trot bright and early in the morning. She’s got an Orange Theory membership, weighs her protein, and dabbles in red light therapy. After dinner, she’ll suggest a walk in the 32-degree weather because “the fresh air helps with digestion,” Hydro Jug in hand. She’ll try to recruit family members to join her on this brisk loop around the block (and attempt to win over the younglings with her “tasty beet chews”). She even came prepared with wrist and ankle weights and a pair of running shoes.

The Cousin Conspirator

This person is definitely a tween-aged grandkid who attempts to cook up a rebellion against the adults. He’ll form a “secret alliance” with the other cousins in order to spy on adults, plot a Nerf ambush, or steal desserts before dinner. Nothing ever gets achieved, but it’s the adrenaline rush that makes it thrilling.

The Memory Keeper (And Subsequent Napper)

This person is almost always your grandpa. He’ll begin every conversation with, “Well back in my day….” He’ll share stories about relatives no one remembers or the times he had to walk to school in treacherous conditions. Or perhaps he will spread hate for the relative who failed to show up to the family dinner. Most of the time, his audience consists of the grandkids who will just sit there with nothing to say in response. After a diverse conversation, he’ll settle into his armchair to “rest his eyes.”

The Dramatic, False "I'm Leaving"

This person probably gets upset over the smallest things. He’s the sensitive younger brother who takes offense the moment you bring up a hilarious story from years ago, and he’ll dramatically threaten to leave. He’ll announce it loudly, of course, and then proceed to stay for another three hours, likely to redeem himself.

Despite the chaos that comes with lake-effect snow, the Lions-induced emotional trauma, the annual political prodding, and the poor dressed-up dog, a Michigan Thanksgiving has more than enough entertainment to keep one occupied.