For the first time in over 20 years, a cook-less Thanksgiving for me; meaning, I did not cook a turkey, I did not cook dinner, I did not cook a single meal over a 4-day holiday weekend. Even those years when we had Thanksgiving dinner with family at their house, I always managed to host and cook a feast for friends/family the night after. To paraphrase a great Passover question: Why was this year different from all other years?
My kitchen has been demolished after an 18-year wait for an upgrade. The fridge sits in my all purpose dining/family room, to the delight of my husband and son who have the TV and fridge door within arms reach. I have the use of a microwave, toaster, coffee maker, Nespresso machine, single burner hot plate and a crockpot; none of which authorizes a Thanksgiving feast. So, for the first time in what seems to be a lifetime, we celebrated without leftovers, without mountains of pots and pans, without frantic shopping, without guest lists... awesome.
I can best describe the day as a triathlon; 3 parts, each fully loaded with challenges and rewards. The day began early at 125th Street/3rd Avenue - the Salvation Army's Harlem site where 900 guests were expected for a Thanksgiving meal. We planned to feed about 3500 New Yorkers on behalf of the Salvation Army, our 3rd year of working with them. All of us volunteer our time for what is an indescribable experience of giving and getting. Last year, I headed up the Bronx dinner - this year, Harlem. A group of 35-40 volunteers gathered between 7:30 - 9 AM, some repeat, some new; individuals and families, none of whom would have been anywhere else that morning. Our guests were as diverse as the volunteers who greeted them - old and young, individuals and families, multi-racial and glad to be sharing the holiday in the company of others. In a society that idealizes the holidays with photo after commercial after ad after message showing perfect smiling families gathered in beautifully decorated environments with heaps of bountiful goodness, Citadel Hall was a reminder of how difficult life can be no matter how hard you try.
One group of guests came from a local domestic violence shelter. I had taken some photos of the moms and their kids, only to delete them after a woman asked where the photos might go. I did not want to risk the possibility of ever using them. They in turn asked if the volunteers would pose for some shots - so that the caring could follow them back to their shelter. I watched as mother and children quietly said grace before their meal. I saw small children in their Sunday best, sitting at the table. Families, 2 or 3 generations, gathered at one long table, to eat together. And many without families, some sitting alone silently, others forming small groups, came and ate - and left. There were individuals I initially judged to be unstable or troubled, only to discover that beyond the distressed exterior hid a gentle soul.
Oh, there but for the grace of god we go. It was a very meaningful day of service and learning. My co-volunteers were as inspiring as our guests and as we parted ways many hours later, we committed to gathering again next year. It was a tough act to follow.
The rest of the day? The second stage was a family meal of both relatives and friends hosted by my parents, as they have done for decades. Is it possible to feel an embarrassment of riches - yes, it is. And while it is a little unsettling after coming from a world of hunger and almost unquenchable need, it is every bit as real and necessary and wonderful. We now have 4 generations gathered around the table and it is a privilege to relish these moments. We have our scars and pains, but it is all relative. These worlds that co-exist - poverty and privilege; hunger and plenty - are not new and are never acceptable. The desire to participate in making change never wanes and is in fact central to who we are. Especially on a day called Thanksgiving.
And the final leg of the evening - sheer fun along with 50,000+ other fans at the New Meadowlands Stadium to root for the Jets. Thanksgiving permeated the air as the spirited crowd celebrated escaping their family table or other obligatory surroundings, to lose themselves in the pleasure of competition fueled by team rivalry, a few beers and human nature. We won.
It was a good finish to a long day of many meals, multiple realities and much to feel thankful for. Next year, when I am back in my own kitchen, I am not sure how I will spend the day - whether jumping from one world to the next will repeat itself, or escaping them all and finding a new experience to share, or gathering at my own table, telling my own story; sharing the journey that will continue tomorrow.
