Home and Hearth with Heart
This year is my 10th Thanksgiving holiday ever.
Ten years ago, I lived in India, and for a while before that, in Oman. No such thing there in those parts of the world called Thanksgiving.
The only Thanksgiving I knew about was what I read in books, saw on television shows or some of the movies maybe. It was always portrayed as a big table full of food, a happy family cooking together, feasting together, laughing, sharing stories and making memories. That is the picture in my head — the one that I came to America with.
The first five Thanksgivings in the country were pretty uneventful. We really did not have any friends or family to celebrate with, and the American friends we had usually had family to go home to, so we were the odd ones trying to find things to do. Find other friends who had no family to spend Thanksgiving with. Use the holidays as an excuse to discover a new city. Experience something new.
Eventually, we found friends in the same boat. One Thanksgiving, we went ice-skating and had store-bought turkey with cranberry something or the other. Takes some getting used to — this eating meat with sweet stuff business. Another time, friends invited us to their farm to join their family in the weekend festivities. That was the closest I got to the Thanksgiving picture I had stored in my head — we spent all day cooking for a late lunch, their dad prepared a masterpiece of a turkey, everyone participated, it was a full table (we were the only Indians, from India, that is), their mom said a sweet prayer before we feasted, laughter and happiness everywhere, I wanted them to adopt me at the end of it I think, if nothing else, to have a place to go home to for Thanksgiving.
Eventually we forged enough friendships where we found a handful of friends we could hang out with, guaranteed, on Thanksgiving, because none of us had anywhere to go. One of them even ritually hosted a Thanksgiving party for all of us that don’t have ‘home’ to head to for the holidays. She would cook us a meal with all the staples, and again it was a home with a full table, full heart and full stomach that befriended us.
Along the years, unbeknownst to me, there was this ugly thing called Black Friday occuring about the same time. Quite frankly, the fact that it was called ‘Black’ Friday kept me away — sounded all gloom and oom to me. Then I found out what it was and I said, “Who, in heaven’s name, came up with this mess, that takes away from the heart-filled festivities indoors and puts people outdoors, fighting over each other, for things that really don’t matter?!”
I have never once, in these ten years in America, ever felt the need or inclination to participate in these Black Friday shenanigans anywhere. I did once step out the next day to see the aftermath of it though. Then I found this thing lurking around called Cyber Monday. Seriously now?! Why mess a perfectly good thing? Why fix something that ain’t broke?
This will be our first Thanksgiving on the west coast. We plan to prepare a home-cooked meal together the day of, visit some friends the day after, entertain some friends who are visiting, and spend the weekend getting to know our new neighborhood/s. I look forward to spending time with family, with friends, with nature, with love, and a home and hearth filled with heart. Over the years, I hope to be able to share that experience with many others. And I wish this upon you and yours, forevermore.