Thanksgiving With the Homeless

This seemed more like April Fools Day than Thanksgiving—I was right in the middle of the kind of bizarre mix-up that could only happen to me.

Just a few hours earlier I had been pretty smug about my Thanksgiving plans. Originally I had had nowhere to spend Thanksgiving—my family was 3000 miles away and I hadn't made any friends yet here in San Francisco—but then I had my bright idea. A quick phone call to a downtown soup kitchen, and suddenly I had something important and useful to do. More than useful—noble.

When a coworker extended an invitation for me to dine with her family, I didn't succeed at keeping smugness out of my voice as I said, "No, I decided to do something useful this year." After I explained, she seemed impressed. As she should, I thought. I was pretty impressed myself.

I awoke at six o'clock on Thanksgiving morning, eager to get to the city. I didn't envy the families I rode on the train with, who were chatting and admiring one another's color-coordinated outfits. One day I would have friends here too, but this year my jeans and T-shirt were appropriate. After all, I was on my way to do good work, not enjoy a party.

When I arrived at the shelter, I wasn't surprised by all the people lined up. Year after year, safe in the cozy confines of my family's living room, I had seen the pictures on the TV news: hordes of people at long tables, squalling children, toothless old men. I looked around to see where I was supposed to go.

In the alley scores of people were standing in clusters under an oak tag sign reading, "Volunteers Pls. Wait Here." I made my way over, alongside other volunteers, surprised so many were willing to do a good turn. Apparently the man holding the clipboard was surprised too, for he stumbled over his words as he said, "I'm Ed. Er, folks...this has never happened before, but we have way too many volunteers. We usually never get the fifty we need, so we had all the radio stations mention it this year. Now we have two hundred, and no place to put you all, even in double shifts."

He grinned. "Just to remind you, we could sorely use your help the rest of the year." Then Ed added, "But today you good people get a reprieve. So we would like to thank you all for coming and wish you a happy Thanksgiving. God bless you."

A surprised murmur ran through the crowd. Everyone besides me seemed delighted to be able to leave. "That's great news," the red-cheeked man in front of me said to his pal. "Now I can go over to my sister's. Vicki's always claiming she doesn't see enough of me."

A woman was thrilled to be going to her cousin's. "Sarah told me to drop in any time. The kids'll be tickled by my surprise visit."

My stomach felt hollow as I realized I didn't know anyone in town well enough to show up at the last minute saying, "Here I am after all!"