The night before Thanksgiving, I took a train into Manhattan to teach a class in midtown. The cars were far more crowded than usual, but a kind passenger made sure I had room in his 3-seater row. He practically glowed with childlike joy. I soon learned that he, his wife and young son (sitting in the row in front of us) were on their way to a hotel with plans to attend the city’s Thanksgiving Day parade in the morning. Every now and then, the son turned around to whisper a question to his dad about New York, or the father pointed out something fun, like the new Tappan Zee Bridge. Their palpable excitement co-mingled with Dad’s careful tending of his family by offering time checks and carting luggage.
On Thanksgiving morning, my friend Sue walked from her apartment in Times Square to 6th Avenue, hoping to cross to Grand Central Terminal where she’d catch a train to my place. She laughed as she told me, I saw one balloon and figured, I’ve seen the parade. Earlier in the week, Sue’s sister sent her colorful turkey plates and napkins, excitedly insisting that the child artist must have been a leftie like both of them—somehow redeeming their schoolgirl memories of having been different.
After a walk in brisk air and sunshine, Sue and I entered my kitchen to prepare turkey, gluten-free stuffing, sweet potatoes, brussel sprouts, string beans. I dug out a favorite cranberry relish recipe from my friend Beth whom I hadn’t seen in decades. As I embellished with pomegranate seeds and ginger powder, I wondered where Beth lived now and how she was spending the holiday.
Our friend Larry joined us following a five hour gig at a psychiatric hospital, having played 30-minute sets on each of ten different floors! He glowed with the kind of love that comes from giving service. He said that when he got to the adolescent floor, the staff warned him up front—don’t take it personally; they don’t like anything. But upon entering the room, someone called out, do you know any Beatles songs? and he was in. He knew every request.
Gift moments know no bounds of time or space. A recipe, a song, a parade balloon. Reverberating through dimensions like a golden thread, alive and dancing, humming through an otherwise muted tapestry. Gratitude unwraps the gifts that connects us, bringing the joy of a child’s first trip to the Thanksgiving Day parade.