As an American living and studying abroad, I seem to forget that life still continues back in the States. More specifically, until a few days ago, I completely forgot that my favorite U.S. holiday, Thanksgiving, is upon us.
Of course, there is always sentimentality associated with things that involve groups of people you love coming together to eat good food, enjoy each other's presence and celebrate life. I know, it all sounds so very Capra-esque. And for a while, I thought it would make me miss being home for the holidays. But this year, I have a feeling Thanksgiving could be my best one yet.
The 20 of us here are planning a potluck Thanksgiving. When will we be able to share a Thanksgiving dinner together, just the group of us, ever again? And in Budapest? Admittedly, it's a much more romantic notion than the actual affair will turn out to be. People will talk of bringing endless supplies of food to the potluck, cooking for days, slaving over their mom's favorite recipe and showing off their culinary prowess.
But the tradition we are establishing here is beginning to become more significant, especially in an area of the world that has experienced a history more tumultuous than any of us will ever really grasp. Usually, Thanksgiving means a break from school and the chance to gorge on food. I think this is the first time, however, that I have remembered to ask myself, What am I thankful for?
My visit to Sarajevo in Bosnia and Herzegovina this past weekend put a new spin on giving thanks in the U.S. versus much of the rest of the less-industrialized world.
In the States, most of us give thanks for another great and prosperous year and for God's plentiful bounty. In Sarajevo, if they had Thanksgiving, it would be a much different story. These people, who went through so much in the 1992-1995 war with Serbia, are thankful for life. When they say they are thankful to have a roof over their heads, they say it with meaning. So many suffered for all those years of the war without shelter.
For almost four years, they lived without electricity and gas. When they turn on their lights or heat their homes at night, they really are thankful. Drinking water from the tap is not taken for granted; so many went without fresh water for years. When they say they are happy to be alive, they say it knowing exactly what death looks like. They lost so many in the war.
And yet, most of us in the United States sit back and enjoy our turkey dinners and think about how it was another great meal of considerable excess. I still cannot wrap my head around thankfulness in the U.S. and the thankfulness of someone in Bosnia. For four years, these people lived in such horrible conditions. Trying to imagine living like that for all that time is unfathomable to me.
So when we establish our tradition this year at my apartment in the middle of Budapest, as we sit down together and say our thanks, I will remember my Sarajevan friends. And I will remember the countless others in the world who know that when you give thanks, it should mean something.
I'm sad to say it took being away from home for Thanksgiving to realize what it truly means to say thanks. But, with certainty, I think the 20 of us here can really say we know what it is to be thankful. So what if we aren't at home to taste some of Mom's delicious pumpkin pie? Ultimately, our Budapest Thanksgiving is bound to be the best turkey day yet.
