The Man and I celebrated Thanksgiving
early this year. Several weeks ago, we
were driving out in the country through
the small farming town of Florence and
saw a sign that read “Turkey Supper –
4:30 to 7:00.” We made a note of it and
actually remembered to go on the
correct day, November 8^th.

We left home about 4:00. I was
yammering about how early it was
and nobody eats this early and why
do we always have to be the first
ones there, etc. But, The Man said
farming people eat early, so we
better get there. We only got slightly
lost on the way, and we pulled into the church parking lot at 4:40.

It was packed. Luckily, we’d driven the Geo and easily maneuvered into a tight parking place.

Inside we were immediately met by an elderly man and woman selling the tickets.
They told us they’d been partnered, selling the tickets for this dinner, for the past
40 years! Can you imagine that?! 40 years! Every year since 1968 they’ve been
selling these tickets.

Then, we had to put our names on a clipboard held by another man who was doing
something, but I didn’t know what. I noticed all these people sitting inside the
sanctuary and assumed they must be attending a Thanksgiving service or something.
We went on into another room asking directions to the dining room. We were told
we’d be called when there was a place available and that ALL those other people in
the sanctuary were ahead of us!

So, we settled in for the wait. Neither of us had the slightest inclination to go.
We figured if all these people were here it must be for a darn good reason and
we wanted to know what it was.

We sat and talked to some other people. Everyone was very, very friendly. We were
like guests at an amusement park where everyone is happy to be there because they
know they’re going to have a good time and they won’t have to do any clean up or
wash the dishes.

It was an older crowd, the average age being around 65, I’d say. There were a lot
of permed heads and polyester knit pants suits walking around, escorted by large,
experienced bellies. A lot of these folks knew each other and were there in groups
of eight and more. One old guy walked over to talk to the ticket-seller couple and
he pulled a piece of string out of his pocket and did the most fantastic magic trick
with it. He had to do the trick about three more times to other people sitting around
because everyone was so amazed by the trick. We all sat there mesmerized, trying
to figure out how he could knot the string around someone’s finger then place his
own finger tip against that person’s finger tip and then, miraculously pull the
string free. We were all dumbfounded because it appeared impossible to do without
breaking the connection between the joined fingers. It’s hard to explain. You had to
be there. But, it was great! As the old guy walked away The Man called out, “hey
how’d you do that?” but the old man was hard of hearing and simply disappeared
in the crowd. We all just sat there shaking our heads in unison knowing we'd
shared something unique .

Anyway, after about 40 minutes of waiting our name was called.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. We’d been sitting there smelling the food for a long time
and we were ready!

We walked into this room full of people, smells, plates heaped with food being carried
from the kitchen to the tables, everyone laughing and talking and making merry.
We were directed first to the dessert table to make our choice. The table was laden
with big slices of about thirty different types of homemade pies and cakes to choose
from. As I started to walk away with my apple pie the woman there said, “you
want some whipping cream on that?” I looked at the huge bowl of homemade whipped
cream she was holding and I said “Absolutely!”

Then someone directed us to our seats, the last two at one of the tables set for twelve.
So, we said hello to our tablemates and they in turn started passing us plates of turkey,
stuffing, mashed potatoes with homemade gravy, a delicious cranberry sauce, rolls
and squash. Everything was served family-style and the plates were replenished as
necessary by the serving staff. It was really fun.

Everyone was eating away. I looked over at the man between bites and saw him
accepting more dressing and another roll and more turkey and I felt a little guilty
because I never prepare food like this anymore. He’s been so deprived!

Just the day before this event I had been reading my Dr. Dean Ornish heart book.
I like to refresh my memory every once in awhile and I’d read the chapter on
“Holiday Dining.” He gave tips like, “Only eat one or two small bites of your
dessert.” “Spend time talking to your fellow diners, make conversation between
bites.” “Fill up on vegetables.” “Eat slowly.” Well, those things actually occurred
to me as I sat there, but it was impossible! It was as if I were the victim in one of
those comedy routines where my arms are clasped behind my back and someone
else sticks their arms through mine and starts gesturing and moving the arms
like they’re mine. It was like that! My right arm was completely detached from
any signals coming from my brain. I’m a vegetarian, but this alien arm was
shoveling in huge forkfuls of turkey and gravy and pie and I sat there struggling
to consume it all. I think I actually started sweating I was eating so hard.

But, it was good. I mean, good. The Man's pecan pie was the best pecan pie I'd
ever, EVER tasted. Seriously, I wanted to put it on the floor and roll in it.

We did a head count at one point. There were approximately 170 total, diners
and servers. Every seat was filled and when a seat opened up, it was immediately
filled by more waiting customers. It was a steady stream that continued all the
time we were there. We weren’t rushed at all and spent a little while enjoying
our coffee and talking to some interesting people at our table. They were from
nearby Oberlin and, like us, had happened by days earlier and had seen the sign
out front. They were surprised too by the number of people and the excellence
of the fare. We'll probably see them there next year.

We were all so happy. It was a most enjoyable dinner. It was like having Thanksgiving
with family, except no one got drunk and there were no fights.

Thanksgiving is The Man’s favorite holiday. He said his dad, Chet, used to always
bring some homeless or family-less person home from the tavern he owned to
enjoy the family’s feast. This guest was always a last minute surprise for The Man’s
mother, but he said it always worked out okay.

In memory of Chet’s thankful spirit of sharing and giving,
I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving.