The many sides of gratitude
in which Laura and Ruth share random reflections about Thanksgiving
Two-second update
Back in October, I wrote about the floods that devastated my father’s hometown of Jasper, in the Southern Tier region of New York State, back in 2021. If you look back at that post, you will see I found myself especially moved by the then-still-unknown future of the local public school. Well, just this past week FEMA issued its final ruling:
I doubt I am the only one surprised that the decision was taken to repair the existing building rather than rebuild. I am no expert, but all the photographs and video footage I have seen show so much damage that it is hard to believe a new building would not be the better option. A final decision, though, especially in the alternate-universe timelines that make up the world of FEMA, is a sort of win. At least now, the next steps in the healing and recovery process can begin.
Thanksgiving: my favorite holiday. Or is it?
Readers who know me probably thought they knew the answer to this, as I almost always say Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I say this with sincerity, and yet a voice in my head says Really? Are we absolutely sure?
Admittedly, no small of evidence suggests pretty much any other holiday might be a better choice than this one.
First of all, there is the personal angle. Yes, my whole family meets up in Kentucky (before that, it was Indiana and Texas) and yes, we eat too much and watch too much TV piled together on the floor, couches, and chairs. We take lots of walks, and some years, my mom and I set up camp in the kitchen the day after the meal and sew things. At the same time, this month coincides with the anniversaries of way too many hard things in our family’s recent history. In no particular order, these include multiple upcoming school changes for my youngest child, surgeries scheduled between the holidays, the day I realized my marriage was doomed to fail, diagnoses no family wants to hear, a gathering canceled due to Covid.
Then there is the truth behind the tale all of us have been told since we were children, the one about starving Pilgrims and Indians in the early 1600s in a place we now call Massachusetts. Native Americans understandably take issue with our whitewashed version of that old tried-and-untrue story. What’s more, it leaves out the efforts of Sarah Josepha Hale who, after years of effort, succeeded in encouraging President Lincoln to declare a national day of Thanksgiving in 1863. I think it is worth noting, among other things, that this happened more than 200 years after those early days in the fledgling colonies. In fact, if Wikipedia is to be believed, those school plays complete with black hats and brown headbands with colored feathers, all cut from construction paper and held together with glue or tape, leave out pretty much all the relevant events that led to the holiday as we know it today.
You might be wondering if I’m one of those crazy liberals trying to rewrite history. I am not. I am saying I wish I had known the whole story all along. I am saying I regret being on the planet nearly half a century before starting to reckon with our country’s and my family’s history (genealogical research suggests I had ancestors on the Mayflower). If I believe in leaving my corner of the earth a little better than I found it, then I need to know the stories that make my current life possible.
Along with understanding stories, I also like to focus on what I once heard author Glennon Doyle refer to as “the next right thing.” When it comes to Thanksgiving, I find help with this in two places:
1. Most cultures have a festival of the harvest sometime near the end of fall, just before the onset of winter’s cold and snow. I think such celebrations are important, especially the versions that help root us in the bounty and gifts of the land. I want to share my gratitude for this undeserved abundance with my children, just as those who went before have shared it with me.
2. The French and Spanish languages have similar expressions for this day: action de grâce and acción de gracias, respectively, expressions that make the day more than a presidential declaration or a lopsided (if compelling) story. They even render it more than an attitude or a state of mind. The nouns Action / Acción imply a call to engage actively with what we have been given and what we can give to others, to pay it forward, as it were. For some of us, that is telling stories old and new. For others, it is running in a Turkey Trot fundraiser or sitting down to eat with the recipients of a free meal at the local shelter. There are many other ways to act from a spirit of grace and gratitude as well, as Ruth is about to show in her column from Thanksgiving 2001.
Despite all the reasons to have complicated feelings about this holiday, it remains my favorite. Feasting, family, and a chance to create the future I want for my children and their children, these all strike me as things to celebrate. Besides, even complicated feelings deserve our recognition, gratitude, and grace.
Rural Reflections
by Ruth Dennis (November 25, 2001)
“Of turkey and deer and other icons of the season”
A kaleidoscope of reflections from the past week and days before.
By now, except for those families celebrating Thanksgiving today, there are few turkey leftovers in the refrigerator. Even turkey soup has been made and is simmering for a late post-holiday meal.
Now that I no longer am the holiday host but part of the family gathering, I sometimes miss those quick pinches of cold turkey dressing snatched from the refrigerator stocked with leftovers. (Yes, I did share some of them with my daughters-in-law when we were the hosts.) I remember saving the wishbone and the grandchildren’s waiting for the time later when it could be snapped apart to see which one’s wish would come true.
The sounds of shots echoed this Monday morning as I write the column. Deer season began bright and early. I have mixed feelings about the outcome. Those does and their fawns who were such frequent visitors to my front yard will probably not be around anymore. Still, didn’t I wish my son and other family members “happy hunting.”
The highways Sunday afternoon were filled with cars, trucks and trailers from Buffalo and Rochester as hunters came to our area for their annual deer hunting. For them, this is a special time away from all the pressures of work. There is a camaraderie among each deer hunting group that brings them back each year. Their success and that of our “own deer hunters” can mean fewer deer-car accidents and the successful hunting seasons year after year add to our local tourism economy.
Those warm and sunny days of mid-November have been an added treasure for us to hoard in memory when the cold and snow take over. We have been almost “spoiled” by these days which are so unusual here at this time of year. My husband and I always said, “such days were like most of winter in Virginia and maybe we should think about moving there.” Of course we never did—we really liked it best where we were and where I am now. So when I have to push the snow off the patio to get the mail out, I hope I remember these added fall days in mid-November and don’t complain too loudly.
We have been given so many extras this mid-November. Perhaps we have enjoyed them more because of the changes in our lives since Sept. 11. Perhaps, even more we have enjoyed them because there was nothing man had done to create them. The most spectacular were the meteor showers last Sunday morning before dawn. I had planned to wake up by 5 a.m. so I could watch, but it was almost 6 o’clock when I was up and could look up at the southeast sky. It was still a sight to behold, one to long remember. At church, before and after the worship service, this was one of the major topics of conversation. There was a sense of awe that accompanied the heavenly spectacle that we had to share with each other.
Here in “J-T country,” we have all shared in the athletic achievements of our Jasper-Troupsburg Central School boys and girls soccer teams.1 It made no difference if we even knew personally a team player, these were “our teams.” Even if some of us never got to see a game in person, these were “our teams.” Many of the players were those same boys and girls that only a few years ago we had cheered at the Sunday afternoon soccer teams. There has been a sense of pride not only in the players but in the community. We can be proud of our “small town life” that brings everyone of all ages and all interests together to support the young people. It would have been a thrill to have won a state championship but it really didn’t matter. Everywhere, the comment was “they (the boys’ team and the girls’ team) played their best.”
I check my e-mail at least twice a day. I am disappointed, if for too many checks in a row, the screen reports “no new messages.” I eagerly scan down to find the new messages and read and reread them. This is a great way for business or professional communication and even for family and friends.
But, nothing quite beats that envelope and letter in the mail. Nothing equals the sound of the voice of a family member or a close friend on the telephone.
I have a friendship that has grown out of these weekly columns that is based entirely on periodic exchanges of long and “newsy” letters. We have never met even though Wellsville and Jasper are not that far apart. But we have become friends and share so much when we write to each other.
A few weeks ago I was surprised to receive a letter from someone I had known who was recalling the times when my husband and I had been with her parents “during those Hereford years.” The memories came flooding back as I read and reread that note. Another friends who has lived away from Jasper for many years sends monthly postcards to her Jasper friends and we look forward each month to receiving them and her love that comes with them. I try to write to her if not every month at least frequently since I value her friendship so much.
Perhaps the joy is in having both e-mail and “regular mail.”
In the 2001 Class D NYS soccer tournament, the J-T girls’ soccer team made quarterfinals, while the boys’ team made the semifinals. The boys would go on to win it all in 2002.