Late night Thanksgiving eve and the frosty air is chilling the moonlit night. Marshall and John Meyer are hard at work in the kitchen making pumpkin and apple pies for tomorrow, having already pickled onions, braised cabbage, sauced cranberries, and butterflied and brined a huge turkey. I’ve set a table for six over huge plywood covered by a freshly ironed linen tablecloth- a maze of cobalt Fiesta from years of thrift store collecting, crystal from Marshall’s Aunt Ramona, and silver from his Gramma Ruth. Tomorrow Chuck, Kenneth, and David will arrive to make a full compliment of every manner of gay Quaker man. I notice two things as I find just the right platter for white meat and another for dark meat- I wonder when did my priorities move from having a VW bus and a Martin guitar to having enough linen napkins for everyone? And how happy I am to be making the house beautiful and having Marshall in the kitchen dreaming up a new way to make gravy (one year it was champagne & fresh j!). Then going out for a moment into the cold night, I say a prayer for all those whose joy and safety are less than mine this evening. A prayer for everyone who can’t get home, for all who are sick, imprisoned, alone, being hurt, afraid, and without hope for tomorrow. Sending this out into the night before Thanksgiving so glad to be home for a rest after a long year of travels. Hoping this finds you all well and with ones you love.
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