Whenever I think about favorite moments connected to Thanksgiving meals, I remember a very special celebration in the hills of Oakland many years ago. While living in Monterey, my young daughter and I were invited to Thanksgiving dinner by a friend who was going to visit her friends. We were made to feel welcome by Joyce and her family. As I recall, Joyce was a nurse, and her parents were both academics. The house was filled with family and friends, a number of young children, and as is usual, I found myself in the kitchen with Joyce, my friend Sandy and some of the other women relatives. While these memories are well over 30 years old, they remain with me as part of what helps me define the meaning of Thanksgiving. There are three special memories that I have from that day.
The spirit of celebration. While some celebrations can be stressful and uncomfortable, the spirit of celebration in this family’s home was welcoming, relaxing, and happy. Everyone was made to feel at home. There were no uncomfortable scenes or debates about politics, religion, or lifestyles. Everyone was accepting, tolerant, and kind to one another. Everyone brought something special to share, and we did simple things together, without feeling pressure. Some of us took walks around the neighborhood, some played board games, and some of us talked about gardens and food and raising children. The children got along with one another, and were treated well by the children whose families were hosting the dinner celebration. A lesson I took away from this day was to always treat your guests like family, and treat your family like guests or long-lost friends. Save your need to prove anything for another day. Focus on being kind and welcoming to one another, and relax. Enjoy yourself, and let others enjoy themselves. As I recall, there was no television. A good plan that encourages actual conversation and cordialty.
A simple, yet special food. While standing at the kitchen island chatting and joking with one another, I noticed Joyce preparing a dish to go with the steamed brocoli. It was a simple and delicious sauce, that is now a staple in our family. Here is the recipe:
The original recipe called for mayonnaise. I now use a mayonnaise substituted, but I wouldn’t use Miracle Whip. The taste will change the combination.
1/2 cup mayonnaise (vegannaise);
1/2 cup green chili sauce;
1 T. Soy Sauce.
That’s it. Adjust the amounts depending upon the number of people you are serving. If you run out, it only takes a few seconds to whip a fresh batch.
A sharing of memories, culture, and family history. As I said in the introduction, the family was a blend of both Chinese and Japanese cultures. The most poignant and meaningful part of the entire Thanksgiving Day was the family sharing their history and experiences. They pulled out two gigantic photo albums and scrap books, brimming with articles, letters, photographs and momentoes. We all gathered in the living room, and as we pored through the albums, we listened to the family retell their experiences of being rounded up and taken to the concentration/relocation camps at the start of World War II. While they shared their experiences with each other, they allowed us, their guests, to hear of the sorrow, pain, and sense of dismay at the injustices, intolerance and ignorance displayed through the government’s policies and treatment of anyone who might be considered a threat, regardless of their ancestry or nationality. We had conversations about what it was like to be singled out for such treatment, and what it was like to lose one’s home and sense place in the community. I think for me, it was probably one of the first times I had heard the first-hand accounts of the relocation, and it would not be the last time. What took place during our visit that day, however, was not an attempt on anyone’s part to enlighten or stir one another to a higher sense of consciousness. What happened, and what I treasure, was being with an extended family who honored me with their hospitality, generosity of spirit, and shared with me the sacred narrative of their history.
As we sit down together this Thanksgiving season, let us listen to the real stories that need to be shared, and let us treat one another, family, friend, or stranger, like an honored guest in our homes. After all, we are so fortunate to be here today, to be alive and able to continue telling our memories and sharing our lives with one another. For families in and around the San Francisco Bay area, this is a special time for our families to come together and to share our memories with our children and grandchildren, and to make some good new memories to leave for our grandchildren to retell one day.
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