Mange Takk

A couple years ago I shared a charming New Yorker article about Thanksgiving with friends, mentioning it was about one of our trustees and his family.  My friend Karen didn't  comment on unusualness of Iraqi general at a family holiday meal in Westport during the height of the war, instead she remarked she wanted to sign up for an international hospitality service like that.

Around June Karen starts mentioning "Maybe we can have him come for Thanksgiving?", pre-booking guests for an annual holiday fete at her home in Philadelphia, a 200 year old colonial row house in Society Hill.

I was part of Karen's original Thanksgivings, when she lived in NYC with her ex-husband Jeff two decades ago.   They were two Upper West Side investment banker yuppies (therefore the most "adult" in our friend group), so began hosting friends-giving Thanksgivings for those of us not traveling home to see family.

Karen continued her Thanksgiving tradition after she and Jeff moved to Philadelphia, and kept the house and the Thanksgiving party after her divorce.  She now co-hosts with her boyfriend and former Norwegian camp sweetheart Viggo,  a Viking by way of Minnesota.

I began attending Thanksgivings again with Karen and Viggo when I first moved back East from California, staying 3 nights for a true Big Chill style weekend. This year, like past years, was a similar gathering of the tribe for a meal, laughing about stories of past Thanksgivings (we determined I missed the 'dirty charade' year...), with a steady stream of people arriving early evening to late night after they finished their own family meal.

A notable guest missing from the gathering, was Alan, who passed away three months earlier from complications in surgery.  During Thanksgiving day discussions about Alan, I reflected on a yoga class Karen, Jen and I attended earlier that day, where the teacher Bruno opened the class with a discussion around gratitude:

"This is gratitude for all things, for everything - for the tough times too," he said, "For the tough times are what help you grow."  

I thought about my own losses earlier this year, with the death of my father and a close friend, and was also grateful for those months between then and now.  For peace.

On Friday, after a breakfast of leftovers, and looking at college scrapbooks and silently marveling at the duration of our friendship over the years, we bundled up to tour Philadelphia to visit the Christmas fair at Love Park and the Comcast Holiday Light Show, which Viggo was insistent upon.

"Because this is what we do," he said, and I smiled to think about new traditions.

New traditions freshen longtime traditions.

Who's not with us this year gets balanced with who is.

And for all things, we give mange takk, many thanks.