Greenville
WINTER 2025
Life
PUBLISHER
Lisa Chappell
Friendsgiving Isn’ t New – Boomers Just Didn’ t Bother Naming It
FROM THE EDITOR
Kent Miller
EDITORIAL CONTENT
David Claybourn Travis Hairgrove
Liz Jones Kent Miller
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COVER PHOTO
Laurie White King
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Let’ s face it: Thanksgiving doesn’ t look the way it used to. And honestly, that might be a good thing for some of us.
The traditional version of the holiday – complete with travel both near and far, family tension and the pressure of a perfectly crisped turkey – has started to feel more like a high-stakes production than a celebration.
That’ s why I’ ve come to believe that Friendsgiving – the potluck-style, come-as-you-are, unofficial cousin of Thanksgiving – isn’ t just a fun trend. It’ s a meaningful evolution of the holiday – one that modern life( and modern friendships) seems built for.
But before we get too misty-eyed about millennials“ reinventing” the holiday, allow me – a proud, last-of-the-line Boomer – to set the record straight: we were doing Friendsgiving decades ago. We just didn’ t feel the need to market it.
Friendsgiving began for most people out of practicality. When distance, work or finances made it hard to get home for Thanksgiving, people made do – and sometimes made something better. You gathered whoever was nearby, everyone brought something to the table( even if it was just a six-pack or that kind way of telling you that cooking isn’ t your strong point – ice) and you enjoyed a holiday meal with the people who are actually present in your everyday life.
Over time, that turned into something worth looking forward to. Some people do it the weekend after Thanksgiving. Others hold it earlier in the month to avoid the holiday rush. It’ s flexible, forgiving and – let’ s be honest – far less emotionally loaded than dinner with extended family.
Part of the magic of Friendsgiving is how low the stakes are. No one’ s expecting a Norman Rockwell tableau or judging your gravy-making technique. Paper plates are fine. Folding chairs are welcome. Side dishes can be store-bought, veganized, gluten-free or totally improvised – the more variety, the better.
Friendsgiving dinners reflect the people who show up. Sure, you’ ll find the usual suspects like stuffing and cranberry sauce but you’ ll also see potluck casseroles, international dishes, family recipes and the occasional experimental dessert. It’ s not about tradition for tradition’ s sake – it’ s about creating something that feels real, personal and shared.
And best of all? Everyone contributes. Someone brings wine, someone else handles the playlist and someone will inevitably show up late with a slightly questionable salad. That shared responsibility makes the night feel communal, not choreographed.
At its core, Friendsgiving works because it strips away the pressure and lets the good stuff rise to the top. It’ s about connection – not obligation. Gratitude – not performance.
You don’ t need matching napkins or a timeline for serving courses. You just need a place, some people and the willingness to slow down long enough to enjoy each other. Sometimes there are board games or movie marathons. Other times, it’ s just a long meal and even longer conversations. Either way, the focus is on what we do have, not what’ s missing.
Now, I know millennials get credit for“ inventing” Friendsgiving – and yes, they’ ve certainly elevated it, complete with charcuterie boards, mood lighting and themed potluck spreadsheets. But let’ s not pretend this was some bold new concept. Back in our 20s, we Boomers were gathering with friends the day after Thanksgiving – reheating leftovers, cracking open a beer and laughing our way into Friday night.
We didn’ t give it a name and we definitely didn’ t put it on Instagram. But the heart of it? That was Friendsgiving before Friendsgiving knew what it was.
We were broke, busy and figuring life out – just like every generation in its 20s. And we found comfort in a room full of friends, fridge scraps and folding chairs. It was messy, low-budget, and completely uncurated – and that’ s what made it great.
So yes, millennials, you may have rebranded it. But the vibe? That’ s pure vintage.
Whether you call it Friendsgiving, leftover night or just“ that thing we do every year,” what matters is the intention behind it. In a season stuffed with todo lists and travel plans, this little tradition reminds us that gratitude doesn’ t have to be complicated. Sometimes, it looks like cold turkey, lukewarm stuffing and people who make you feel like you’ re exactly where you’ re supposed to be.
So here’ s to chosen family, to potluck menus and yes— even to mason jars full of sangria. Long live Friendsgiving. Boomers may not have coined the term but we’ ll gladly take some credit for the idea.
4 GREENVILLE LIFE