Thanksgiving Day

Thursday, November 24, 2005
Nideggen-Rath
German

In the back of my mind I knew Thanksgiving was near. I’m not yet so removed from my former routine to forget such an important day. That said, it wasn’t something I was thinking about, nor did it have its usual significance. I’m not cooking today for example, and haven’t been shopping for ingredients the past week or searching through the old Fannie Farmer for recipes my New England grandmother used on Thanksgiving Day meals long ago. Tonight I will probably make pork chops and although I might say a few words to mark the day, they will mean little to the group assembled. Only His Holiness and I were born in America and he doesn’t yet have any awareness of the Holiday – or of any other Holiday for that matter. One day I will begin to tell him the stories I was told as a young boy, about our ancestors, the ones who came over on small wooden boats many hundreds of years ago and settled on the rocky coast of Massachusetts. We have lived continuously in the same small town and on the same piece of land for over four hundred years. One crusty old Uncle still lives in the house his father gave him almost seventy years ago, just off the side yard from the building in which he was born very near the beginning of the last century. His Holiness carries one of Pilgrim names in his, as I do in mine, the poor kid has a name as long as your arm because I never expected him to be in my life and I am quite sure there will never be another like him, so he got them all, all the family names, and he will have to carry them around for at least a decade or two. When he’s older he may chose to discard them, but by that point I will have told him what each of them signifies, and his decision will be an informed one. Today when we sit together for our evening meal we will give thanks for our safe arrival in this new land, where this wayward wing of the family is making a new home.