A Life Lesson: The ‘Real’ Thanksgiving

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This is the story of an ordinary Thanksgiving turned extraordinary for a small child and her cousins….all because of their wise grandfather and his thoughtful friends.

When I was a child, I spent Thanksgivings at my grandparents’ house on the Jersey Shore; those were some memorable Italian-American feasts! After dinner, grandfather and my older cousins were in charge of cleaning up the mess and putting the leftovers away. This was highly unusual for an Italian man in the 1950’s. When the kitchen was back in order, grandfather and his helpers would walk to the boardwalk as a reward; or so I thought, until I was old enough to experience that walk for myself. As I eventually learned, grandfather had a purpose to the Thanksgiving ritual: clearing the leftovers, getting the older cousins to help, and even the walk to the boardwalk.

So, Thanksgiving in 1959 went about the same as other years, until it was time to clean up. Grandfather announced that since my cousin Mary Anne and I had turned seven, we could now help in the kitchen. Once we recovered from the surprise, we proudly trotted off with the older kids and grandfather to do our assigned chores. As we cleared food from the table, we noticed two of our oldest cousins separating large portions of leftovers and carefully packing them into bags. But, we didn’t ask about this for fear of losing our new kitchen privileges. When we were almost done, I also noticed my grandmother come in and hand my grandfather a big thermos as she kissed him and quietly said, “Something to help them be warm.” I wondered who she talking about, but, again, didn’t dare ask.

When we were done, grandfather told his helpers to get dressed in our warmest clothes to prepare for the walk. Then, as we worked our way toward the beach, a few of grandfather’s friends joined us. One quietly said to my grandfather, “Anthony, I brought an extra pack of cigarettes” and the other one whispered, “I have a big bottle of red wine and an old coat.” My grandfather replied that we brought good food and strong espresso coffee. My cousin Mary Anne and I were puzzled at their mysterious comments, but just stayed silent.

Finally, we arrived at the boardwalk (now devastated by the storm named Sandy). I had never been to the beach this time of year. I was amazed that the only sounds were the sea gulls and crashing waves on the rocks; and, of course there was the glorious smell of the salty air. But, it was so cold and windy I couldn’t help myself from complaining to one of my older cousins who wrapped me in his scarf and hurried me along because grandfather and his friends had gotten ahead of us. Even from a distance, I could see they seemed to walk with purpose, versus strolling like most people did on the boardwalk. We quickly caught up to them as they came to the building where the beautiful merry-go-round was; we were in Asbury Park.

The ornate structure was closed for the winter, so it looked eerie. But we followed grandfather, his friends, and our older cousins down a rickety stairway behind the round building. When we reached the sand, and an enclosed area underneath the merry-go-round, grandfather called out with his lovely Italian accent, “Amici (friends), we have food here for you.” We saw a few men and women come out cautiously along with a frail young boy; he appeared to be about twelve years old. Mary Anne and I must have looked dazed because my oldest cousin came to us and quietly explained that grandfather came here every year on Thanksgiving to bring a meal to homeless families he knew about that were not fortunate. We were in awe as we watched grandfather and his friends hand the small group the food, cigarettes, coffee and wine.

Then, my oldest cousin wrapped the used coat tightly around the young boy. With that gesture, I felt the need to hand him my favorite red gloves and Mary Anne willingly gave him her plaid scarf. The oldest man in the small group reached out to squeeze grandfather and said, “We are thankful to have you and your generous family here for us today.” At that, my grandfather solemnly said, “My dear friend, my grandchildren must always know that the feast of Thanksgiving is not just about a turkey. We will stop in the church on our way home and pray that next year you are bringing food to someone else.” I remained sad all the way to the church where we sat quietly; we lit small red candles, and listened to grandfather pray for that family as he kneeled at the altar. On the way back to grandfather’s, I no longer had the need to complain about feeling cold.

I can still see that fragile young boy standing on the freezing New Jersey beach wrapped in that old coat. For over fifty years, every Thanksgiving, I think about him and I light a candle to remember. And as I light that candle, I hope with all of my heart, that he is safe and warm: now teaching this lesson to his own grandchildren. Thanksgiving is not just about a turkey.

So, create a memorable and Happy Thanksgiving!

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About Post Author

Carol Maietta

A healthcare executive (HR and Nursing) who relocated to Alabama from South Florida 6 years ago. I have an open-minded approach to life combined with the ability to find humor in the ridiculous (including myself).
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9 years ago

Brought a lump to my throat. Loved it! Thank you! x

Bill Formby
11 years ago

Carol, your grandfather is teaching us all many life lessons. Thank you for sharing.

Reply to  Bill Formby
11 years ago

Thanks for your comment, Bill. But, I often wonder if I only picked up on his lessons because I was listening and he knew that.

Jess
11 years ago

Another fine showing of your family and their values Carol. I do a yearly run, on Thanksgiving morning, with family members. The money collected from registering goes to our local foodbanks.

Reply to  Jess
11 years ago

That’s such a nice thing to do, Jess. I love to hear about those sorts of traditions and giving back to the community.

Dale Fisk
11 years ago

Very nice Carol. Reading these over Sunday brunch has become a family ritual. Thanks.

Reply to  Dale Fisk
11 years ago

Thanks Dale. I am touched that my stories are now part of your family ritual.

Admin
11 years ago

I agree with Lincoln. Good stories both, and like Lincoln, I’m old enough to remember the good old days. Finally I would love to learn more about Brazil 🙂

lincoln82
11 years ago

Two wonderful stories here: Carol’s and James’. Both inspiring. James I know little about Brazil and would love to hear more. How about some articles on it?

Carol, I am old enough to remember those wonderful Thanksgivings in the ’50’s, and your story brings back a flood of memories. Brava.

Reply to  lincoln82
11 years ago

I do have a few things I have written about Brazil, mostly things for friends and family in the USA. Some have pictures, too. I’ll dig through the files and see what I have. Or, I might just send them to you, MJS, and let you choose.

Reply to  James Smith
11 years ago

Sounds good James! Thanks.

Reply to  lincoln82
11 years ago

Thanks lincoln. I am happy to bring up fond memories. Other than the lesson I learned, these are designed to stir that up in the reader.

11 years ago

What a beautiful story.

Here in Brazil, we do not have a Thanksgiving. Instead we try to do something every day. For years, we had helped support a creche for disadvantaged children.

It was an independent operation with no government support because they could not afford to meet some arbitrary bureaucratic standard. Instead they focused upon having enough milk, food, diapers, and toys for the children. Most of them had parents who were struggling to work and had nowhere else to have their children cared for when they were working very menial jobs.

After about 6 years of help from many people, they were finally able to qualify for government assistance. Even more fortunately, it was at the same time that the Lula government increased the assistance to such operations and to disadvantaged families.

Today, they have moved into a much better facility, only two doors away from us and are able to take in paying clients as well as the other children. All they needed was a little bump, to get over that first hurdle.

Even better, from our balcony, we can see the children at play.

Reply to  James Smith
11 years ago

That’s a heartwarming story, James. I agree…we would all enjoy reading about your experiences in Brazil.

Reply to  Carol Maietta views
11 years ago

I have sent a rather long one to Michael. I have placed it entirely at his discretion and mercy. So it may or may not appear in some form or another at some time to be determined. How’s that for positive thinking? 😀

Reply to  James Smith
11 years ago

Not bad. I’ll be watching for it.

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