GIVING THANKS

I am not completely ignorant to the “re-interpretation” of Thanksgiving. I’ve read my history beyond my seventh-grade textbooks of pilgrims and Indians. I know the way we dress it up, cloak it, and smack an American stamp of approval on it. But to me, Thanksgiving has always been a time of, well… giving thanks. Plain and simple. Sharing with people you love and care about. And although, they aren’t sitting down to turkey in China, I can’t help but think of the Chinese proverb – Do not forget little kindnesses and do not remember small faults.

This time of the year (as it should be all year) is a time to remember what we have, not what we don’t have. With all the commercials screaming out for us to BUY, BUY, BUY as a way to show our love, and all the stores blaring their holiday music under the guise of goodwill toward all, it’s sometimes hard to focus. Here’s something I have always been thankful for – I don’t really give a shit about keeping up with The Jones. People’s value is not measured by their income or the price of their gift, it’s what they give of themselves. I would much rather have a gift filled with thought than will currency.


Enough of that.

First off, this Thanksgiving was special in many ways, but the most important one was that my mom was out visiting. Yay, mom! I hadn’t seen her in awhile and was struck by our similarities. I know we all struggle to define ourselves as unique, when in reality we are just recycled from numerous people. Watching my mom made me think about the true effect people have on each other. How much residue of other people (good and bad) do we carry over in our lives? These are some things that struck me.

A few months ago I was bemoaning to a friend that it was hard for people to respect when I wanted to be anti-social and left alone. She replied, “Well, that’s because you talk to everyone. And I mean. EVERYONE. It doesn’t matter who they are, you will go up and talk to anyone.” I hadn’t really thought about it before. Then I saw my mom. I have picked her up at the airport only to see the people she was sitting next to hug her good-bye (in one case, a really good-looking guy in his 20s). My mom talked to the woman we were standing next to at the baggage claim. The couple in the elevator. The woman in front of us and behind us at the grocery store. The woman in the fabric store. She talked to everyone. It’s hard to imagine her being quiet, but unknown to many, we both require a lot of solitude.

Another thing I noticed was her struggle with words - frequently mispronouncing them or her unique malapropisms. I have that in spades. I don’t know if this is genetic or learned. But we both have it.

And her selective quest for perfection in details. I noticed this when her hair wasn’t combed properly (she got a haircut and didn’t realize her bangs were six different lengths until she got home. “Oh, well”) and she was bent over the ironing board. As I stood in my flour-covered t-shirt and hair pulled back in a ponytail, fretting over the proper placement of the table settings, I told her that it wasn’t necessary for her to iron the napkins. The pot calling the kettle black.

So, a lot of my Thanksgiving had to do with being thankful for anytime I got to spend with my mom and noticing connections (despite how odd and frustrating they might be).

The next part of my “Thankful Thanksgiving” was going to the racetrack! A New Orleans tradition. This was especially important because the track was closed down last year due to Hurricane Katrina. About a dozen or so of my friends met at my house around noon (I insisted all the ladies wear hats) and we walked over to the track.





The weather was perfect, clear blue skies, 70s. Along the way I was treated to a rash of interesting bumper stickers on cars, which always makes me happy. Everyone called out holiday greetings and frequently complimented us on our outfits.






Inside the racetrack, the lines were long for beer and snacks, but the mood was festive.





Everyone seemed excited to be there and I had (and witnessed) various reunions. The general mood seemed to be one of “Aren’t we lucky to be in New Orleans?” Any time that mood hits I am thankful for it.









I left a little early with my friend’s son to set up for the big meal. I had 19 people, at three tables. It was a potluck, so everyone brought something. Most made the dishes at my house (with help from my friend’s stove four doors down) so it was a full and frantic kitchen. People hung out on the patio, in the yard, or piled around the cooking area. People who didn’t know each other met for the first time. Old friends got to catch up. Derby girls got to talk trash.






We had two turkeys (one baked, one deep-fried) mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans, three pies, crawfish bread, oyster stuffing, bacon wrapped in water chestnuts, sweet bread, spinach salad, fruit salad, creamed onions, and a lot of alcohol.



At the table(s) the conversation never stopped and I was reminded how lucky I am to have such good friends and be surrounded by such fun, caring, intelligent and interesting people.





When you have people near you who have those qualities, it makes it easier to realize what you HAVE. There were people missing who I would have liked to be there, but the warmth I felt from other people was a reminder of their presence. But above all, it made me thankful.




Thank you!

Gratitude preserves old friendships, and procures new.