The Meal

I love Thanksgiving, but it's a relatively new relationship for me. When I was younger I had a fear of food so Thanksgiving was like the ex I who wouldn't leave me alone.  He'd drunk dial me about the same time every year and leave embarrassing messages like "Don't you remember how much you used to love my stuffing?! Don't you want my gravy?" It was torture. The table of fattening, taboo food made my heart sink. I'd turn away from my gluttonous family with embarrassment, bereft because they didn't understand, resigning myself to a day of sneers, misunderstandings and comments like “Oh Puh-leez! You could use some meat on those bones! Don’t be ridiculous!”    

And if you go way, way back to when I was a little kid, Thanksgiving made absolutely no sense to me.  I didn’t get why I was supposed to be thankful for being forced to sit at a table full of breakable items with my boring family, eating food I didn’t like, only to be rewarded by desserts I liked even less (all varieties of pie, especially ones with tapioca in them).  It was impossibly stupid.  We'd go to my grandparent’s house where I would be sat next to my Depression Era grandmother. She would say things like “is that all you are going to eat? You know there are plenty of people who would be very happy with this meal. Here try some of this…” and drop some goopy thing, (usually jello-molded), onto my plate and failing to notice that I was in fact eating turkey and a roll, neither of which was touching each other, thank-you-very-much!

I’m older now, healthier and most of my taste buds have died so I love Thanksgiving.  I love it because it’s simple and sweet.  There aren’t any gifts exchanged or milestones commemorated, no religious affiliations. It’s a meal. That’s it. Sure, it’s a big meal. OK, it takes all day to prepare, but at the end of the day? It’s just dinner. It’s an invitation to sit around with people you like (or tolerate) and share a meal.  And the best part? Most of the food makes you sleepy.  So you have this big meal and afterwards everyone just wants to sit around, watch TV, and hang out. When you really break it down, Thanksgiving is the perfect holiday.

To me, Thanksgiving is the personification of the word “abundance.” Abundance is overflowing, bountiful, plentiful wonderfulness.  It means more than enough.  It means trusting that there is enough for everyone. It means sharing. Within the ritual of preparing food to feed your loved (or tolerated) ones is the representation of a bountiful life. It is a reminder that a rich life is not one that is simply overflowing, but one in which that effluence is shared.

We’re in a weird state of contraction in this country right now. People are unhappy. There is a constant stream of “stop whining and get a job!” retaliated by “stop being such a greedy pig!” and it all points to a need to recalibrate the scales towards abundance.  Clutching and grabbing, saying “Mine! All mine!” or “Give that to me!” is just like someone who is afraid to come to the table and the other person shaming them for it.  The breakdown of the celebration isn’t on the shoulders of one person or the other, it’s both.
 

Because here’s the thing; the table has been set and the food is prepared. A bountiful life has already been laid out for us.  And abundance wants to be consumed. It wants be enjoyed in whatever way it is going to be enjoyed, but it cannot be done while everyone’s trying to figure out who spoiled the soup.  


The soup’s gone cold so just leave it on the sideboard. 


Just come to the table, pass the potatoes and say “thank you for coming.”