This is a different kind of "Today's Smile" than I usually enjoy here...
Fifty-six years ago, in early November, 1969, my mother, brother, two sisters, and I emigrated to the United States, sailing appropriately enough on the S.S. United States liner. My father had flown ahead of us to finish preparing the house we had rented, which needed some paint and basic set-up so that it would be ready for our arrival.
My dad had been recruited as an engineer for a major American company, whose vice president of engineering had become his best friend. They had spent every evening of the previous week painting, cleaning, stocking cupboards, making beds, and doing everything they could to make us feel like we were moving into a new home, not just a new house.
But when he met us on the docks in New York, my dad was fighting back tears. He had a large bouquet of roses for my mother, but his sadness was crushing. The previous day, his friend - who was also his new boss and sponsor - had been killed in a plane crash, leaving behind a new widow and a young son and two daughters the same ages as my brother and sisters. It was overwhelming. There was the awful sadness of the tragedy, and there was suddenly also doubt about whether my dad's new job would still exist. We were alone in a new country with nothing but the suitcases we had carried and the few "tea chests" of belongings from our old home that we had packed.
My dad never talked much about his work transition, but his job held. But we could not have been more wrong about being alone.
We were invited to more dinners in other homes than I could have possibly imagined, and about three weeks after our arrival we learned about a holiday called Thanksgiving. We were invited to the home of another employee of my dad's company, where we watched our first American Football games on an actual color television and ate our first sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. Mostly, though, we marveled at the openness, friendliness, and genuine caring of our hosts. They embodied all the hospitality and spirit of sharing we had heard about Americans, and - as a suspicious and slightly cynical 17-year old - I was completely disarmed by their welcome.
We had many advantages. We were the same color and spoke the same language as most of our neighbors, and while we had brought next-to-nothing with us, my dad still had a job that paid an engineer's wage. But there was still a major difference between the willingness to share we found in our new country and that which we had left behind.
Fifty-six Thanksgivings later - and now in my 70s with my own family - I still celebrate our "Immigration Day" every year and tear-up a little each Thanksgiving as I remember our first one. I also understand that giving thanks isn't just basking in the glow of good feelings, but actually passing-on our blessings to others...particularly those who may not have many blessings except for those we give them. Centuries of benefit from the bounties, sacrifices, and freedoms that we have inherited as Americans bring with it the responsibility to build on those benefits and pass them forward, not just use them up.
I wish you all a joyful and safe Thanksgiving, and I pray that we will all recognize that, America, we are singing a prayer, not a statement, when we implore that "God shed His grace on thee, and crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea."
