Thanksgiving: Then and Now

Memory: Standing in the blue and white kitchen, I cut slices of bread into small chunks. They don't have bread crumbs here? No Pepperidge farm? Hilary comes through for me showing me how to tear the bread into even, fine crumbs with a fork. She peers over my shoulder at my mother's recipe for stuffing and mentally evaluates it. "Egg? There's egg in your stuffing? You put egg in your stuffing? Won't there be little bits of egg floating around in the stuffing? Are you sure?" I explain that the beaten egg, of course, absorbs into the bread crumbs and basically makes for a nice, rich flavor. I continue to chop celery and onions and pretend not to be phased by her incessant questioning of my Thanksgiving dish. Anna is preparing enough sweet potatoes to feed a small nation. Kate has made her family's traditional rice pudding and deviled eggs. Mark and Carol are cooking turkey in our too-small oven.

Somewhere in the afternoon, the stuffing made and set aside, ready to pop in the oven, I venture out into the rain alone. Pensive and not caring about the rain, I walk to the Jubilee campus to take the shuttle bus. I prefer this walk. I like the 20 minutes of weaving through pedestrian subways, avoiding broken bottles, watching children in their green space, knowing that to the rest of this country - today was just another day. Not a day to be thankful for. Just another rainy day where students turned in their papers, like I was about to. At night they wouldn't gather around a table with their friends and family and celebrate another year together, blessings, achievements, new loves, health, or being financially capable. In this country, Thanksgiving was an invisible holiday, observed only by a handful of people at 67 Homefield Road and the American students at the University. I think about my parents, as I'm sure my friends were thinking of their own families as well. Being a family of three, it's always sort of up in the air of where our Thanksgiving will take place. We usually tag along somewhere, or invite the people in our families who can't travel to meet their immediate family - so Thanksgiving is always such a hodge-podge of people. I think about my friends at home. I think about how many pans of sweet potatoes Anna is making and smile a little incredulously.

After turning in my paper, I wander home. The kitchen is chaotic; Hilary, waving a spoon around, expresses her surprise and delight that my stuffing is quite good. We finish making the pumpkin pie together. Big surprise - they have no canned pureed pumpkin here either - homemade pumpkin it is - and it's yummy. Mark and Carol are constantly checking on their turkeys. Anna, Ryan, and Brandon have taken over the kitchen downstairs, making casserole dishes of something - potatoes, sweet potatoes, more potatoes. We put out appetizers of my mushroom rolls and deviled eggs. We're instructed to color our own placemats, while cut outs of leaves and candles decorate the table.

It was a very special Thanksgiving. Unique, warm, full of friendship and love, and I was grateful that I had such a great group of people to share it with. And then we went to The Lion. And I was grateful for ale. :)

Present day: Good Thanksgiving. Lots to be thankful for. Lots to dread - paperspaperspaperspapers - which I'm currently putting off. But lots to be thankful for. And, sigh, I suppose education is on that list.

My mother's best friend lost her father last week; he died of cancer. Today, less than one week later, this same best friend endured the death of her mother. If that's not a reminder to be thankful for each and every moment spent with family, I don't know what is. My mom was heartbroken for her friend: "When both of your parents die, you feel like an orphan." and I couldn't resist adding a little plaintive note, "Well, at least she has siblings to help her through it." To which my mother responded with a big hug, a couple of tears, and a "We're not going anywhere anytime soon!" I've discovered that as a 20-something, death seems really far away for me. I barely feel like an adult, I barely feel that I've even begun living, I have so much more to accomplish, to see. At 20-something, you feel invincible - nothing can take me down, nothing can break me - but at 50-something, mortality is an ever-present thought. We learned that from Carol Gilbertson in Nottingham - death, accidents, horrific hospitalizations were her favorite topic. My mother has of late worked in such upsetting topics into her everyday conversation as well. It's sort of what I imagine people to get from a gladiator vs. tiger battle in the colosseum. It's horrific, terrible, strange, bloody, but people got a weird satisfaction from it; they couldn't take their eyes from the frightening scene - staring in fascination. It's a good story. And even though my mother - and Carol Gilbertson - are very empathetic, lovely, sympathetic, loyal friends, it's sort of like a ghost story that's so chilling it must be repeated. Anyway, it's a disturbing subject, and I'm not going to bring down my few readers any more than I already have. Suffice it to say, I'm so thankful for the family I have. Anytime I even think about what I would do without them, I start to tear up. And if something ever happened to my family, I am so thankful that I have several close friends that I know I could count on to pick me up and make sure I kept on living a good healthy, joyful life. So, friends! If you're reading this, thank you. You are loved and appreciated more than you know!

Annnnnnnnnnnnnd, because we started out with an England flashback, I thought we'd end with a good old Nottingham dinner "Meditation." People would groan and sigh and worry when it was their turn to lead us in thought and prayer?? before a meal, but I always thought that it was a nice concept. Here is one of the "Meditations" I dug up in 2006, and I think it's just as relevant these days.

A Thanksgiving Prayer
In the spirit of humility we give thanks for all that is.
We thank the great spiritual beings who have shared their wisdom.
We thank our ancestors who brought us to where we are now.
We are grateful for the opportunity to walk this planet,
to breathe the air,
to taste the food,
to experience sensations of a human body and mind,
to share in this wonder that is life.
We are grateful for the natural world that supports us,
for the community of humankind that enables us to do many wonderous things.
We are grateful that we are conscious,
that as intelligent beings we can reflect upon the many gifts we have been
given.

Tom Barrett

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!