Overall, this Christmas was a grand experiment in shifting from one way of being to another. It felt like we were embarking upon a true transition from ‘the way we’ve always done things’ to ‘a new way.’ Just like any transition, it had its rough patches.
I’d say most of that evolution centered around the family ‘meal,’ which is probably where the vast majority of ‘tradition’ resides in many households.
Most of us in the family eat meat, but rarely. Others of us, however, eat meat never. And then there are those of us who not only don’t eat meat at all, but also do not eat anything even remotely associated with animals. No butter. No milk. No cheese. No eggs. Yes, there’s now a vegan in our midst.
Turkey Sandwiches Remain a Priority
We checked in before the holiday, and determined that turkey was still a hoped-for agenda item with those of us who still appreciate the sacrifices of our feathered brethren. Truth be told, it’s the turkey sandwiches on the horizon that are the real lure here. Piled high with stuffing savory and juicy from cooking in the bird, the turkey slices will nestle between a layer of cranberry sauce and mayonnaise, all held together with a multi-grain, seeded bread. Oooh yeah.
It’s hard not to feel sorry for those who no longer (or never did) enjoy the unparalleled goodness of leftover turkey sandwiches. But alas, that means there’s more for us who pander to our inner Neanderthal. (Which, parenthetically, 23andme tells me is part of my genetic makeup.) (Yeah, it explains a LOT.)
I have to admit, though, in preparing the mashed potatoes both the ‘old’ way and the ‘new,’ the difference would be something I could evolve toward. I’d miss the buttermilk and butter. But it could work.
The green bean casserole without the mushroom soup? Satisfied my vegan but not my vegetarian. I don’t know if I can make that leap yet either.
At Least My Stuffing Is Vegetarian-Approved
My stuffing is vegetarian-approved even when prepared as history dictates. It’s just the portion that cooks inside the bird that’s taboo. So that’s an easy compromise: that especially juicy stuffing can go on my turkey sandwich; thanks.
All, in all, though, I probably could have stepped up my game as far as the ‘protein’ I prepared for my ‘Vs.’ I thought sautéing some vegan sausages with onions and red peppers would make a nice addition to the stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans, but the expressions on their faces said, “Meh.”
I’ll work on that for next year.
And who knows? As our lives evolve and we witness the cataclysmic results of accelerating climate change day in and day out, it would not be outside the realm of possibility to imagine us going at least totally vegetarian by next year. Probably not vegan; not yet.
Although, I suppose, stranger things have happened.
As a family, we’re game to honor and appreciate our traditions while also exploring ways we can evolve and expand the way we walk forward into the future.
All that really matters is that we do it together.
I had quite an unexpected and emotionally fraught ‘moment’ in a grocery store parking lot today. Nothing like celebrating the Winter Solstice with intensity, I say.
I was checking my text messages and emails before running in for a few items, when all of a sudden a grocery cart rammed into my car door. The loud whomp, which physically jarred me and felt like it surely had dented the entire side of my car, scared the heck out of me. Then, in an eye-blink, that fear turned to rage.
I jumped out of my car (there were two empty handicapped spaces to my left, and beyond those, the driving lanes and then the market itself) furiously looking for the culprit who’d carelessly sent the cart careening into my vehicle. Let me note here: I’m expressing how I felt, which might generously be called…hyperbolic?
Anyway, as I say, I jumped out of my car looking for my transgressor. The only person I saw anywhere near me was an older man who had parked his car facing mine, but one space to my left. His car was pulled up to a handicapped-only parking sign which was affixed to a substantial metal pole about 4” in diameter and 4’ high. I glimpsed him as he was folding himself into his driver’s seat.
Assessment of the Situation Made
I immediately surmised that he’d shoved his cart into the space in front of his car (and beside mine), perhaps thinking it might get hung up or wedged in place by the parking sign pole, obviously not thinking twice about the consequences. I assumed the worst.
I knew he’d heard the cart smack into my door. It created a very loud bang. And the way he was getting into his car, he just looked guilty to me. Like he was avoiding making eye contact.
With barely a thought, other than a consuming wave of indignation and the sense that I was not going to just pretend it hadn’t happened, I grabbed the cart and looking directly at that man, who by this time was sitting in the driver’s seat and looking at me through his windshield, shouted how ignorant that was. “What the hell? What is wrong with you that you think it’s OK to do that?” I yelled, not really looking for an answer. I slammed the cart into the parking sign post in front of him. While I was tempted in my fury to smack it into his car, I didn’t. Obviously.
I could see him yelling – or at least mouthing – something back at me, but his angry face made me not want to get into this any further. So I sat back in my car and tried to decide whether I just wanted to leave or whether I would fulfill my marketing mission. I decided to go in.
Moving On
Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I deliberately took the cart from where it still stood ‘parked’ against the post and walked across the lanes of the parking lot and into the store. I noticed he was still sitting in his car, looking down, perhaps texting someone himself? I didn’t trust him…
Entering the store, I snagged my hot peppers (which in retrospect I probably didn’t need!) and onions and returned to my car. A quick trip.
Nevertheless, I thought it odd that he was still in the parking lot. Was he going to confront me? Ugh.
I left the offending cart up with the other carts beside the entrance to the market and returned to my car. Feeling a little stalked, I glanced toward the man with a dirty look, warding off any bullshit. No luck. He opened his door and started yelling at me.
Confrontation
I’d already started getting into my car when he started yelling, so I tossed my veggies into the passenger seat and stood up, turning toward him. All I heard was, “…your fucking car…”
“Excuse me?” I said, dripping snark and attitude, but trying to be the calm one (now).
“Did you think I pushed that cart into your car?” he demanded.
I turned to look at him square in the eyes and said quietly, “Well, yes, I did.”
He looked a little surprised, perhaps that I answered quietly? I don’t know. But he responded, still defensively and a bit aggressively himself, “Well, I didn’t. I heard it hit your door and – ”
“I am really sorry,” I said, interrupting him. There was something about the way he said what he said or the look on his face or something, but I immediately believed him. And I immediately and unequivocally felt ashamed. I felt awful.
A Total Shift in Energy and Attitude
Absolutely everything about this man’s energy shifted right before my eyes. I could tell he believed me, too, and trusted my sincerity.
“Yes,” I continued, “I assumed you’d done it because you were the only person anywhere around when I jumped out to grab the cart.”
By this time, I’d walked over to his car, where he had the door slightly open and his window down, his left hand resting on the bottom of the window frame.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I returned my little cart over there,” gesturing to the cart return coral in the row across from and behind his car, “and was just getting into my car when I heard that one slam into your door.”
“I am so terribly sorry,” I repeated, touching his hand. “I was a jerk. I really was. I think the bang of it startled me so much that I over-reacted, and then I just assumed you hadn’t cared because my car is old…”
“No, I didn’t do it,” he repeated, probably just confirming out loud one more time what he’d been saying to himself the whole time I was in the market. “But thank you for speaking to me.”
“Thank you, too,” I said. “Again, I’m really sorry.” I looked him in the eyes and smiled. “I hope you have a really nice holiday and I’m glad we cleared this up.”
“Me too,” he said, smiling back.
Reflection – and Gratitude
As I drove away from that incident I contemplated how the entire situation had completely transformed in a way I never would have expected.
I’m so grateful it did. I have no idea what that man was thinking or experiencing. Perhaps he is lonely, or grieving. Perhaps he is facing a dire diagnosis – or someone he loves was just taken from him.
I thought about the compassion of yesterday and how quick I was to anger today. (Which, I have to say, was really weird in and of itself. I am not one to usually react like that.) It made me realize just how little we know about how anyone, at any given moment, is perceiving something that we, too, are experiencing. And how easily it is to misunderstand – or be misunderstood.
I’m so grateful this gentleman and I were able to transmute that moment of darkness and turn it into light.
An intense solstice experience indeed – probably exacerbated by the full moon!
Funny. I never call Thanksgiving “Turkey Day,” but here I am titling my blog post for today “Turkey Day.”
I didn’t eat turkey today, nor did I even see one (either in the wild or on a platter).
But I thought of turkeys today – and the meaning of Turkey as conveyed by my beloved Medicine Cards – and in spite of myself, kind of felt a little sad.
One of the paragraphs in Turkey goes as follows:
“Spectators unfamiliar with the cultural phenomenon of the pot-latch or give-away ceremony are often mystified by it. A tribal member may gladly give away all he or she owns, and do without in order to help the People. In present-day urban life, we are taught to acquire and get ahead. The person with the most toys wins the game. In some cultures, no one can win the game unless the whole of the People’s needs are met. A person who claims more than his or her share is looked upon as selfish or crazy or both. The poor, the aged, and the feeble have honor. The person who gives away the most and carries the burdens of the people is one of the most respected.”
What’s Mine? Yours? Ours? Theirs?
There’s a lot of focus these days on what’s ‘mine,’ what’s ‘yours,’ what’s theirs,’ and what’s ‘ours.’ And there are a lot of people claiming an astoundingly greater portion of a lot of our resources than could even remotely be considered their ‘share.’
And I will be the first to admit that I do not consistently embody the spirit conveyed within this paragraph. I don’t even come close. But I aspire to do so.
And I wonder how much better so many people in the world would feel if everyone just thought a little bit more about someone else. Not only the people who were ‘thought of,’ but also the people who do the thinking of others. It could be such a colossally ‘win-win’ of a situation.
The joy of making another person smile and know they’re loved – it’s huge. The joy of letting another person know they make a difference in your life and you appreciate them for it – can change their life forever. The joy of taking a moment to be kind, to be generous, to be patient, or to be compassionate – can make your life worth living.
Sometimes the smallest gestures, such as looking directly into a person’s eyes when you listen to them, can make everything seem a little bit brighter.
Aspire to make a difference. Smile. Be grateful. You matter.
