Thanksgiving Releases Power of Togetherness

“Mommy, what’s your favorite color?” my preschooler asks while sorting her breakfast into brightly colored piles. Maybe Skittles aren’t the most nutritiously balanced meal, but, hey, each color actually represents a fruit. Plus, grouping is a task required on those standardized tests, I rationalize. “Yellow,” I say. “It’s bright and cheery.”

“Favorite number?” Molly asks, pigtails askew. “Seven. It’s always been my lucky number,” I say. Coincidentally, Molly is the youngest in our family of seven. “Lucky it’s not six,” I add.

“Favorite food?” I gulp my coffee as little Barbara Walters picks up steam. There’s hardly a food I dislike, but to pick a favorite, hmm. “I’ll get back to you on that one.”

The interview presses on. Molly’s dramatic spike in verbal metabolism is fueled by the early morning rediscovery of her nearly demolished supply of trick-or-treat candy. “How ‘bout your best day?” Definitely not Halloween, I think, massaging my temples.

She stares at me, one hand hiding her candy-packed grin. I pause, which isn’t smart when trying to keep pace with a kid. It was a no-brainer until now. My birthday? Mother’s Day? Depends on the season. “Thanksgiving,” I say. Molly looks at me with pity, as if I just blew the billion-dollar question. “There’s no presents on Thanksgiiiviiing!” she whines.

Losing interest, she pops her final Skittle and bounces off like Tigger with a sugar buzz. I sit in the kitchen alone with my answer. Thanksgiving. I ask myself what I am most thankful for. I’ve always loved Thanksgiving and appreciated the blessings of family and friends, but somehow this year feels different.

Last Thanksgiving arrived, like an uninvited guest, just weeks after that horrible day in September. The dust may have settled in Manhattan, but it’s still swirling in my mind. Aside from Sept. 11, we’ve had anthrax, kidnappers and snipers; even the economy has been frightening.

Our doorstep is crowded with the threat of future attacks and a war with Iraq. Then I realize why Thanksgiving is such a wonderful holiday. It has the powerful ability to connect people, at a time when so much can be divisive. Thanksgiving is a day to celebrate, free from constraints created by cultural, political and religious diversities.

After all, if the pilgrims hadn’t trusted the Indians that harsh winter, it’s possible none of them would have survived. Imagine that first three-day Thanksgiving feast, a simple celebration of racial harmony, religious tolerance and survival. All accomplished without the help of a single football game.

We can’t seem to stop the avalanche of holiday decorations from overtaking Thanksgiving, so we’ll have to make a conscious choice to elevate turkey day to its deserving and meaningful position. It’s more than a day to quit shopping long enough to devour a turkey dinner, followed by strategic planning to hit all of Friday’s 5 a.m. early bird sales.

This Thanksgiving I’ll set aside fears sparked by recent events. I will postpone the anxiety regarding our future with Iraq and say a prayer for people no longer here. Then I’ll indulge myself in the joys that can go unappreciated during this busy time of year. My hugs will be tighter and linger a few extra moments. My frustration with trying to have the traditional Thanksgiving dishes hot simultaneously won’t drown out the laughter of my children, nieces and nephews. Conversation will win out over dishwashing.

And the best treat imaginable will be savored: The peace of having loved ones close and safe from the evil that threatens us so close to home.

Thoughts of Thanksgiving baste my usual chaotic day. I make time to e-mail friends, family and colleagues to ask what they’re most thankful for -- unaware of the gifts I’d receive. Each “You’ve got mail” delivers another reminder of what’s most important in life.

My virtual mailbox gets stuffed with messages about the importance of family and friends and their ability to keep us grounded and make us laugh. Many echo sentiments of good fortune to live in this great country, which offers freedom to worship and celebrate.

That night I fall asleep with renewed spirit. Why? I’m not sure. Recent events may have served us a platter of vulnerability. But I think it came with an unsuspecting side dish, a super-sized helping of human spirit, appreciation and kindness.

The next morning I relax, savoring my three minutes alone with my coffee. The morning rush to get children off to school is over, and Molly saunters into the kitchen searching for her lost candy bucket. She hops onto the stool hopeful, but not optimistic, of enjoying a repeat of yesterday’s colorful morning entree. I realize I never answered her question about my favorite food. “Pumpkin pie, with lots of whipped cream,” I exclaim.

Molly looks at me with a twinkle in her eye, “Yummy, for breakfast?”