Thanksgivings remembered

Along time ago we were in San Francisco for Thanksgiving. I called my friend John and asked if we might possibly join him at the celebration of their ethnic feast. Our what? he asked, a bit shocked. "Your ethnic feast," I replied. "When you choose to say ‘thank you’ to everyone for everything."

So he took us to a late lunch at Leona’s house. The table was lavishly set, with whole oranges covering wine decanters. There was turkey, sweet potatoes, pumpkin and pecan pie. After lunch, all the men moved to the TV set to watch the football game. This was their Thanksgiving.

Many years later we lived in the United States, just moved into my Millbrae apartment, didn’t even have a job yet. It was Thanksgiving and I was not ready. My daughter’s male friends begged me to host Thanksgiving lunch. I rushed to Walgreen’s to buy whatever was available – TV turkey dinners and vodka. We drank ourselves through lunch and somehow survived.

I got better and better over the years. By the following year, I had the ritual down pat. Thanksgiving is a really big American feast. It is always a one-meal day and that meal is huge. Lunch is always served late, always roast turkey with all the trimmings. The entire family is invited to come and everyone gave thanks.

I remember one year when I roasted a turkey and my daughter brought home a foreign admirer. He wore an earring and was quite good-looking. He loved my turkey that year. I got better and better at roasting turkeys but finally on my last year there, I got tired of turkeys for Thanksgiving. I thought, we are Filipinos. We have turkey at Christmas. This year I will have a Filipino Thanksgiving.

I cooked my grandmother’s recipe for cocido, with chicken, beef and chorizo de bilbao, accompanied by vegetables and the eggplant sauce, separate from the tomato sauce. We had Filipino guests, my good friends. We thanked each other for our lives in America, their hospitality, everything we ever did for each other. To me, that night was one of the most beautiful nights of gratitude.

Then I came home. We did Thanksgiving on and off here. I couldn’t do it for the children anymore, they were too busy. Thanksgiving is not a Filipino holiday. It happens on the third Thursday of November when everyone has work. So often it is moved to the following Sunday, by my cousin who hosts another terrific turkey lunch, even if she grew up in England and I don’t think they have Thanksgiving there.

Once in a while, one of my children invites. This year it was my son Gino who was going to roast a turkey. It would be dinner, not lunch. He would have his in-laws and some friends over. I asked my most important question: Will you serve wine? Yes! he said. He wanted to make sure I would come.

Gino’s turkey was delicious, not too big a Butterball, which he bought and stuffed himself. He put in three different kinds of sausages so the turkey, usually a very bland bird, was very tasty and moist. He also ordered roast pork and Arlie, his aunt-in-law, brought over a huge paella. In the car on the way to Alabang, caught in traffic, I texted Gino: Open the wine. I will need it as soon as I get there.

We sat down to an informal dinner. Rene and Fe, his in-laws, Gino, his wife Faye, daughter Maxine and me. Then we were joined by Arlie and Sam. And later still by Anton, Sam’s husband, a wonderful magician, and Gino’s neighbors, Dirk and Len and their children. It was an informal dinner with good food and wine, a lot of laughter and fun. It felt like Thanksgiving.

In the background Rod Stewart sang his old songs and Arlie and I sang along. The way you wear your hat, the way you sip your tea. . . one of the signs that I am high and should head for home.

Alone in the car I did what nobody thought of doing. I thanked God for everything He had sent me this year, for all the people I had met, for all the good times I had had. I thanked Him for introducing me to The Noli Center and teaching me how to care for people with Alzheimer. I thanked Him for giving me the means to afford my mother staying there. I thanked Him for introducing my relatives and me to my paternal grandmother’s family. I thanked Him for re-introducing me to Jung, whose teachings I enjoy immensely, and for the friends I have made in the Jung circle. Yes, He was very kind this year and I was really and truly very profoundly grateful.

I know I’m late but nevertheless, Happy Thanksgiving to all. It’s a good time to be grateful.

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