Why Thanksgiving Became and Remains my Favorite Holiday

I don’t recall an equivalent holiday in Japan, but the first time I celebrated Thanksgiving was when I was seven and only a few months into life in the U.S. My “new dad” was a navy man, an aviation machinist mate, and our tiny house near Naval Air Station Moffett Field in California was abuzz with young sailors who were far from home. Dad made it his mission to make sure nobody stayed in the barracks by themselves on Thanksgiving. He told me, “they just deserve a home cooked meal,” but I would conjecture years later that it was probably because dad grew up as an orphan.

A couple of overloaded cars pulled up to the curb and spilled out young men, some clutching cases of beer, others respectfully holding flowers and other gifts for my mom. They were mostly young men in their twenties, a few in their teens, and it reminded me of holiday meals in my grandparents’ home in Japan where three generations lived under one roof and always enjoyed lively conversations at the table.

My parents continued the tradition for years, throughout dad’s navy career and beyond. Some years, the young men from Moffett Field would reappear at other duty stations, older, wiser, and bearing delightful stories and mementoes from their travels, and share a meal with us. They’re just “old friends,” my mom and dad would say, but it became clear to me that their friends were paying homage too.  

Thanksgiving Day seems the most genuinely American of all the holidays. It taught me at a young age that even small acts of kindness can reap a lifetime of rewards and that thankfulness, like a good meal, makes a person complete no matter where your station may be.