Should We Feel Guilty Because We Have A Nice Thanksgiving When So Many People Are Hungry

When I saw a thread in the forum about whether or not we feel guilty when our Thanksgiving is one of abundance, I was inspired to write this Hub. Actually, on this afternoon before Thanksgiving 2010, I should have been doing the rest of my baking and getting a few more things ready for "the big holiday". Never let it be said that the urge to write ever lost to anything that "really should have been being done". In any case, here's an hour's worth of day-before-Thanksgiving thoughts (and it was so much more fun for me to write than folding those table linens or getting out that messy Crisco and every-so-uncontrollable flour):

I don't feel guilty about something like having this one holiday that came from the idea that "officially" taking a day to pay attention to what we have to be thankful for (and what we have to be thankful for isn't, for most of us, a matter of being thankful that a bad Winter didn't kill us all). There not a day that goes by the whole rest of the year when, in the back of my mind, I'm not aware of, or hurting for, all the people in the world who can't eat or don't have a peaceful home where they can; or else don't have any family or friends to be thankful for. Like anyone who has a healthy concern for the rest of the world but who has to also live with the sadnesses of the world about which he can only do so much; I don't go around thinking about the starving people every minute of every day. Still, I think about "the world" and all its hardships and suffering every day at one time or another, for one reason or another.

I was born in a time and a place when I lucked out as far as being able to eat goes. I've had my "very comfortable" times and my "not-quite-as-comfortable" times in life, but it's never been about not being able to have a dinner. It's usually been about whether the centerpiece flowers come from the florist or the grocery store, or whether I put together one relish tray or another myself, or have one that someone else put together far more "professionally".

I've have more than my share of bad, bad, Thanksgivings, though. My father died on Thanksgiving. My mother died the day before another one years later. Then there was the one that I knew would be my mother's last one the year before she did "go". I've had Thanksgivings when the court (for truly no legitimate reason other than indifference and incompetence) separated me from my children, and they were in another part of the state. Maybe it's easy for me to say that I don't feel guilty on Thanksgivings, because even though we have our holiday and have a nice one at that; there's always that underlying thing that's at the back our minds and that's about how the meaning of Thanksgiving, for us, isn't really about the food. (Heck - I don't even like food anyway, although I do like a good pie of pie. LOL ) Decades and decades later, when I think of Thanksgiving I still think of the year when my mother was only home from an eight-month stay in a TB hospital a week or so before Thanksgiving. I was seven. My brother was two. My sister was twelve.

Then again, there was the Thanksgiving when my husband and I couldn't go to my mother's for our usual family Thanksgiving, because I brought my premature baby home two days before the holiday, so I put together a "mini-Thanksgiving" for my husband, five-year-old, and me. I didn't care that we couldn't go, and my brother-in-law came for a quick visit to see the baby and break up the day that had us missing out on "real" Thanksgiving.

There have also been those Thanksgivings in my life when it's been harder than other times to buy the dinner without having to worry about whether one paycheck or another would show up in time. The year immediately after my divorce I had more than one well meaning person offer me a free turkey. (I'm close to be a vegetarian, so there was that factor for me, when it came to whether or not I wanted it; but even if I weren't, the last thing I really cared about at the time was whether or not I could have turkey on Thanksgiving. I sure could have used some help - some cash, a job, a better lawyer, etc. - but when things are bad, the last thing some people really care about is who gets to have a big turkey dinner and who doesn't.

One thing I learned from my "stint at being a 'have-not'" was that people often over-estimate how badly they need to feel for you. I've never done without a holiday dinner, but so many of my own meals are are a matter of saltines and peanut-butter because, as I said, I don't care much about much food. I find a way to get my nutrition, but nobody ever has to feel bad for me if there ever comes a time when I don't get that traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

During that stint of being a "have-not" I didn't particularly see myself as a "have-not". I "have" so many, many, things and people in my life that so many others don't have, I actually saw people (like my very comfortable friend, with all her food and flowers, but with a sick husband and a bunch of other crap in her life that I hope I never get in mine) as people I was kind of feeling bad for. After all, it doesn't cost much to keep this 5' 2", middle-aged, body of mine (and it's almost non-existent appetite) well nourished and happy enough.

There are people in this world who watch loved ones with away from starvation, and that's about as horrible as it can get. Still, even if it wasn't from starvation, I've watched my share of loved ones suffer and wither away too. I'm not underestimating the horror and pain and "wrong-ness" of having people in the world who starve. I'm just pointing out that not starving isn't always a ticket to not suffering in this life. I'm not saying it's "just OK" or that we should accept the fact that others starve in this world; but I think if we do everything we can to help others in whatever way we can, sometimes the only other thing we can do is keep trying to think of more ways to help - and in the meantime, live our own lives knowing we did nothing to cause someone else's hunger or pain.

People in those horrible, starving-to-death, nightmares aside; I've known people in the US for whom eating and getting by has been pretty much quite a challenge. They do what they can, and they have whatever Thanksgiving they can have; and those that I've known who live with financial struggle have pretty much seemed as happy and thankful for their family and health and whatever they did have as those of us with the big, fancy, dinners often do. Being a "have-not" isn't necessarily about not having much money. The people I've known who have struggled (including myself at one time) know that they're not "have nots" in so many ways. So often, people who struggle don't see any reason that others should feel bad for them, or guilty because they have florist shop flowers as decorations. There's so much more to "not have" in life, one thing people who haven't always been comfortable learn is that abundance in this life isn't always about that extravagant dinner.

I don't feel guilty about what I had no part in or what I'd change tomorrow if I could. I won't feel guilty if there's so much good food on that holiday table that the leftovers will feed my family for the next three days. I can't feel guilty if I'm fortunate enough to be able to sit around a table with my family, laugh in spite of the fact that some people are no longer at the table, and know how amazingly solid and strong we've managed to keep our family in spite of all those things for which we are not particularly thankful (to say the least).

My son was in third grade when his Flag Day essay won first prize. In it he wrote how, while "other boys my age can't go out to play because they have army men in the street, I can just go outside and play". My thoughtful eight-year-old wrote that he was grateful because, "if I get hungry in the night I can just go to the kitchen and get something to eat". He also wrote about having "nice bed" and a warm house. My little son knew it was all a matter of luck-of-the-drawer when it comes to having been born in a time and place when he didn't go hungry and didn't have to worry about war being all around him.

There's little in the life for which I am more grateful than to know that my three children have grown up not having to go hungry or be afraid to leave the house. The wise little eight-year-old has grown up to be a kind-hearted, caring, strong, and good man; and so have his his sister and brother. How many vegetables there are on that holiday table, or how "professionally done looking" that relish tray is, will not be what I'm thinking about as I watch the people around that table laughing and talking and knowing that sometimes the things that makes us most caring and most able to do something about other people's plight are the very things we'll be there, being thankful for, tomorrow.

For some reason, people have (I guess since anyone invented dining rooms, but more likely even before that) traditionally celebrated one thing or another by having a feast. I don't know... Personally, I think always introducing food into the mix is kind of an odd thing to do, but it's what people have "always" done. I think most Americans would be more than happy to send their Thanksgiving food to someone who is starving in another part of the world, but we all know it's not as easy as that.

The family of five in the US may have already donated many, many, times the cost of their $30 worth of vegetables over the course of time; but even if they sent their vegetables to people in a severely impoverished region, those vegetables would feed only a tiny, tiny, fraction of the world's starving people. I'm not justifying not sending those vegetables to starving people - only saying it isn't that simple.

And so, we have our traditional celebration and feast, decreed by Abraham Lincoln; with thoughts of the Pilgrims who managed to make it through some horrible, horrible, times and lived to see a kind of abundance for which they once certainly longed.

I don't live far from Plymouth (my daughter's future husband grew up there). One November morning a few years ago, I was sitting and having coffee; looking out at the raw, gray, cold, day and noticing how all the foliage was either gone or brown. For some reason (and this almost made me laugh at myself) I thought how much I hate New England winters and how horrible it must have been for those Pilgrims to find themselves in a place like this all those years ago.

So many of the Pilgrims died just trying to get here, and so many more died after. History books tell us that if it weren't the Native Americans teaching the Pilgrims how to survive here, a lot more of them would have died sooner too. The Native Americans of Massachusetts knew how to do things and knew that even in with its cruel, cold, Winters in Massachusetts; if people can survive those they get to feel the warmth of Spring and see crops of food growing in a way that's hard to imagine when the landscape is nothing but snow and ice.

The way I see it, those of us fortunate enough to have been born in a country where most people can at least get basic food are kind of like those Massachusetts Native Americans of the 1600's.
People who came before us figured out how to survive and thrive in a place where freezing to death and starving death was something everyone faced. As I think about all this, I'm reminded that it is so often all the ice and snow of Winter that keep this particular corner of the planet from suffering unrelenting drought and famine. This cold, cruel, place in which those Pilgrims found themselves when they went searching for a better life is far from a Shangri La or a Garden of Eden;but it was through the help of those who had survived and thrived, and the determination and will that is in the human spirit, that led to the growth of a nation that may still not be able to guarantee comfortable abundance for all (of its citizens or of the people of other other nations), but in which starving-to-death is far from what happens to most people here.

Some people believe that we are all here on this planet to try to do "God's work". I don't think there's too many people who think "God's work" is anywhere near done here. Others believe life on this planet is a matter of "survival-of-the-fittest". I can't say I believe that the fact that some of my ancestors came to America for a better life makes the fact that I'm here, rather than having starved to death, attributable to my being "among the fittest". From the standpoint of those who think in terms of "the fittest" being the ones left standing and being in the position of contributing to the survival of the human species, it seems to stand to reason that those who remain standing among what might be seen as "the healthiest" (if only because they have food) would be among those most in a position to "further the species" simply because their nourished brains and bodies mean they have the strength, ability to learn well, and collective power to try to help those others who have been weakened and compromised by severe poverty and famine.

It may, if you think about, be a little peculiar that people have feasts to celebrate one thing or another (and they have those feasts as long as there's a way to come up with the food for them). Still, the fact is that, for no reason other than where I happened to "land" when I was born, I have the luxury of saying, "I don't really care about the food," and "The things and people I'm thankful for are so much more important than food." On the other hand, the fact that having access to food has never been a problem for me doesn't mean I've lived some charmed life full of nothing but frivolous laughter and delight. Sometimes it seems so natural for people to think in terms of whether they're "comfortable" or "very comfortable" or "comfortable enough", and to associate "comfortable" with whether food is extremely abundant or just adequate. Sometimes "comfortable" is something we associated with warm dining rooms, a few extra Thanksgiving desserts, and the chance to watch a football game on the latest kind of television.

I'll be honest (and not all that encouraging and positive here, to say the least), but no matter how much I ever have, in terms of money or extravagances or a great heating system; there will never be a time in my life when I feel too "comfortable" to be able to enjoy a holiday with my family and friends without guilt or reserve. I've seen too many times (and too young) that one kind of "comfortable" doesn't matter, and the other kind of "comfortable" can end in a flash.

I'll also be very candid in saying that even though I'm not even entirely sure of what I believe about some things in this life and universe, I'm actually kind of afraid not to be very aware of all that I have to be so thankful for; because I guess there's a part of that little girl, who went to Sunday school each and every week, who hasn't quite outgrown the fear that God teaches lessons to those He deems needs them. Yes - I'm kind of afraid not to just relax and be happy and be thankful each time my family sits down to a holiday dinner. In my head, I tell myself that's probably something I ought to address with a counselor; because it's not particularly that a healthy a way of thinking to feel compelled to have a great time out of fear of having some lesson sent my way.

I see all the good things in my life as gifts someone or something, or life itself, has given me. When we're given gifts the usuall thing is that we appreciate them, enjoy them, treasure them, and say, "thank you". How much we care about anyone else in the world is a separate thing from whether or not we, ourselves, have received one gift or another. So is whether or not we very much wish we could share that gift with someone else.

Every time a family holiday rolls around, so many of us set aside any sadness in our lives or pasts, all the work and worries we have the rest of the year, and even all the terrible problems there are for so many other people in this world. We decide to set all that stuff aside and just take a day for being together, enjoying a meal, and realizing that even though there have been all kinds of stormy seas to ge through we somehow managed to return home once again.

Yes, my heart continues to ache for anyone suffering in this world; but on that one holiday, I can't, won't, and don't feel guilty because I was born where cornfields are full, in a place to which some of my ancestors came in order to escape their homeland famine and be try to offer those who would follow them a life of not knowing famine at all.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Somewhere in the world there will be some jet-setter who flies off to some extravagant place and has a far better dinner than mine in a place that's a lot fancier than my suburban home is. I, on the other hand, will be cutting my own vegetables, looking for more space for the pots and dishes, dragging out the extra chairs, and being the one who ends up cleaning one heck of a mess at the end of the day. I don't want those "more comfortable" people to feel bad or guilty, though, because I see so many things in my life that I suspect they would love to have.

At the same time, somewhere else there'll be someone in a rented room, eating nothing but Campbell's soup, and either being happy not to have "to deal" with the holiday, or else lonely because he doesn't have a choice. I'd guess, though, that even with that, there's probably something in my life that a person in that situation may be glad is not in his life. While it does, of course, bother me that there are people who will feel lonely and left out when they prefer things to be otherwise; I suspect a lot of people "less comfortable" than I am wouldn't want me to feel guilty any more than I want someone better off to feel guilty.

Guilt is for people who cause other people's suffering - not for the people who would end it if they could, and who do what they can to least try to help in whatever way they can.

Tomorrow, some other mother's baby will starve to death in some country far away from where those Pilgrims landed and learned how to survive New England Winters and grow corn. Among those "worries of the world" that I'll be "setting aside" will be the fact that some other mother's baby will die of starvation, and so many other people in the world will live long enough to keep suffering in their starvation. Any guilt I feel or don't feel (whether I'm justified in feeling it, or justying not feeling it) won't do a single thing for that other mother's baby, or any of those other babies, children, and adults who will die of starvation. I wish it doing something to help were as easy as just feeling guilty.

So, tomorrow I'll cook that traditional corn and wash and cut all those vegetables, knowing that deep gratitude I have for all that I have in my life is one that's always with me, no matter what day of the year it is; and whether or not Mr. Lincoln thought setting aside a day to give thanks was a good idea. You know, all year long (and my whole life long) I live with the deeply held feelings and thoughts associated with really caring, and so much wishing there were a way to end suffering in this world, and really being grateful and really know what' s important in this life. It's pretty much what you do when you're a normal, decent, human being who cares about people, the world, and your own family and friends.

A couple of times a year we get a family holiday and the chance to just set the worries, horrors, and day-to-day matters of life and the world aside; and just rest (well, maybe not "rest" but take a break from day-to-day life anyway). As that normal, caring, decent, human being I am; I pretty much find I need that day or two a year when I'm not burdened by all the worries and suffering of life and the world. True, not everyone in this world gets to take that "break" from it all; but the chance to do that, in itself, is yet another of those "gifts" some of us are given. I'll do my best to appreciate that gift for the day, and then I'll tuck it safely away among the memories that make up a life that is blessed in so many ways.

Maybe one day other mother's babies won't have to die of starvation. Maybe one day,too, forgotten grandpa's and never-been-a-grandma's won't die of hypothermia in even suburban, US, homes. Maybe on day so many mothers of young children won't pay for that holiday dinner they think their children deserves "as much as the next kid" by not using the car-payment or rent payment to do it.

"Maybe one day" thinking isn't very productive, I know; but maybe on this one, next, holiday it's all there is for so many of us.

Ok, so I feel kind of bad (sort of) saying this, but I'm not the biggest fan of the lyrics of this particular song.  Still, it's the one a whole lot of us learned as kids, so it was hard not to add it to this particular Hub.