I love Thanksgiving! I love big meals, lots of turkey, eating with friends and taking the time to be deliberate about being thankful.
I started the day with a swim; went out to the reef freediving and caught a yummy lobster. Brought it ashore and showed it to a bunch of kids, knowing that anything from the sea is irresistable and totally fascinating to them. Watching them oooh and ahhh and touch and giggle fills me more than any turkey or stuffing.
Then I went to my friend Bob’s for dinner. There were about 20 of us, sitting together on a long table overlooking the water. If I leaned back too far, I’d be in it! We ate, talked and sang together, rubbing our bellies in mutual distress and satisfaction.
When I left, Bob gave me some turkey in a ziploc bag and a whole pumpkin pie still in the box. I was salivating!
It was dark, and on the way out to the main street, my light was green. I sped up to catch it. As I got close, saw that someone was pushing a shopping cart across the road, a cart filled with black garbage bags. The person was halfway across the main road (it’s 4 lanes) and hesitated, not knowing if I was going to speed thru the light and make the turn.
In our culture today, people who push shopping carts are sometimes invisible. Particularly at night. I ‘saw’ our society’s view of the homeless, and stopped to let him pass.
Its cold here tonight, at least to us Floridians, and the homeless person had on several jackets.
Earlier, on the way to Bob’s, I remembered my loneliest Thanksgivings ever. It was in Santa Monica, California. I’d just split up with my former wife, had moved out of the home where we lived with our 8 year old son. I was on the road alone. My dinner was a big mac at Mickey D’s. I was homeless and heartbroken, feeling as sad as the street people who shared the dining room with me.
I pulled the car over. Rolling down the window, I yelled a hello to the hooded figure. He pushed the cart over to me, and I offered him tomorrow’s turkey. He gave me a warm toothless smile, and I impulsively gave him the pie too.
His eyes lit up. “Pumpkin? Pumpkin pie?” he asked.
I heard the ring of nostalgia in his voice – it was clear that pumpkin pie meant something special to him, and tears flooded my eyes.
“The whole pie?” he asked, as if I was offering him the world.
Yup, I nodded, unable to speak, and he flashed me the peace sign.
Impulsively I grabbed my camera. “Can I take your picture?” I stammered, feeling sheepish, a bit violating of his privacy. Yet in that moment I knew I wanted to share this story with you, and that his picture would make this story more real, more powerful.
He said yes and I snapped it. He flashed me another peace sign. I didn’t capture that, yet I’m hoping I did capture the beauty, the sadness and the sweetness of that moment. He’s out there right now, full of turkey and pumpkin pie, and I’m out there with him.
Now you are too, and it’s no longer lonely.
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