Thanksgiving F(e)ast

On Thanksgiving Eve, Stewart Tosh sits at the breakfast table, searching his four newspapers for a single reason to celebrate tomorrow's holiday. He turns to a lead article addressing "the problems that poverty and homelessness cause." Must be a plant, Stewart thinks. Who would write such drivel? He tosses the pages aside, bypasses the Sports and Entertainment, and reaches for the rich and famous embedded in the Business News. According to a national newspaper, the banking and oil industries are reporting record quarterly profits in the billions, with the CEOs raking in multiple millions in annual compensations. Meanwhile, more than four and a half million families have lost their homes to foreclosures. Unemployment and personal bankruptcies have skyrocketed, poverty and illness are on the rise, minimum wages remain unchanged.

"And the poor and homeless are creating problems?" he mumbles. "For who?"

"What's that?" his wife Betty asks.

Stewart doesn't hear her. He makes a final, desperate effort to locate some semblance of integrity and comes up with the Editorials. In a Letters-to-the-Editor, one Sarah Gogden describes in alarming details the "deplorable feed and care given to turkeys these days."

He gags and slaps the papers down. Disgusted by an astounding variety of repetitive, thankless behaviors, and feeling once again betrayed, he swallows his American pride and announces, "Betty, I'm going on a fast."

"Coffee's ready," she says. "Want some?"

"Starting now."

"For Thanksgiving, Stewart?"

"Yes, for Thanksgiving."

"You've said that before," she reminds him.

"Where's the grocery list?"

Betty goes to the kitchen computer and prints the list she and Stewart made last night, sixteen items in alphabetical order....

all-spice napkins - 2 large packages

apples - mixed, 10 pounds paper towels - 4 rolls

bread - 2 white loaves, 2 brown sodas, mixed - 2 dozen

butter - 3 pounds sugar - 5 pounds

cardamom sweet & white potatoes - 15 ea.

cinnamon - ground toilet paper - giant economy size

cranberry sauce - 1 can w/berries, 1 w/o whipping cream - 2 quarts

milk - 2%, 2 gallons vanilla, pure - large

Stewart digs through a drawer and comes up with a fancy Intel ball point his brother-in-law gave him and the twisting mechanism doesn't work. He drops it in the trash, finds a pencil, and across the printout, scratches....

Water, distilled - lots

He kisses Betty and heads for the grocery, inspired, determined, his mind made up. The harshly lit store swarms with last minute shoppers sifting through assorted fresh produce, while the aisles displaying commercially processed foods are mostly gridlocked. Occasionally, Stewart drops an item into the cart. After twelve aisles, he stands seven deep in the tenth check-out lane, surveying the loaded carts surrounding him, and his own with four two-and-one-half-gallon distilled water containers on the rack beneath. Food for thought, he muses. Yes, this is exactly what he needs. In his own small way, the fast will be a silent protest to modern-day "problems," and by this very inaction he may somehow fill an oppressive emptiness nagging him lately.

On the way home, he is already in a lighter mood, his mind more clear. Maybe he'll fast over Christmas and the New Year as well. What better time to rethink his life, put away old perspectives, make room for the new? Besides, he could stand to lose more than a few pounds gained over the last forty-odd Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. But Stewart doesn't intend to miss the Holiday Season celebrations entirely, just drop the 'e' from 'feast.'