Thanksgiving

I sat there yesterday, in a lovely room at a beautiful table set with a feast of plenty - squash, mushrooms, turkey, gravy, potatoes, salad, dressing, green beans, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce in 3 different styles, even asparagus that had to have come all the way from South America and wine from Germany. The table was loaded with family and friends, and yet I felt the empty spaces this year. We ate from Grandma's china, but she was not with us save in spirit. Oma wasn't feeling well, and stayed home. My family was in a different state.

And my dad is on a military base. I'm sure he got turkey, but not the fake turkey we always had for our Thanksgiving feasts. (Even my husband is hooked on that stuff - it tastes nothing like turkey, but it is good.) Were the mashed potatoes any good, or were they the watery stuff we were served the last time I ate at a military base? Is he with folks that he knows? I don't know. Hopefully soon he'll be checking his email.

I'm not feeling thankful. Is that officially unAmerican right now? I want a different Thanksgiving. I want one of rice and beans, even, stripped of the lovely candles and overflowing bowls of ritual foods. I want one with my dad. I want one with the prayer he always begins with that we all turn ourselves outward, that we be given eyes to see the opportunity to share our bounty. I don't want Pilgrims and Indians. I want Americans and Iraqis to be able to sit together. I want us to look with radical eyes to see the opportunities for peace and justice that are there even now.

I want the world to open their hearts. I want to be thankful together.