We were walking the Camino de Santiago. Trudging toward some farflung village in the remote unseen.
There was a big group of us walking together. Jamie and I were the eldest of the group. Most of these pilgrims were in their teens or mid-20s. They were kids, far from home. And strays of all species have a tendency to follow my wife.
Such as the Japanese kid who had been in Spain alone. He’d met no other Japanese there in three weeks. He was isolated by language since his entire English vocabulary consisted of “yes,” “thank you,” and “Roll Tide.” I taught him the last one.
Our group marched forward. Feet scraping on the trail. Every language was spoken. But we found commonality in English.
We were talking about holidays, comparing our cultures. An American asked whether any other countries celebrated Thanksgiving.
“In Canada,” answered one young woman, “we have Action de grâce, which is like your American Thanksgiving. We have a feast with ham, turkey, mashed potatoes. The biggest difference is, we maple glaze everything, including annoying relatives.”
“In Ireland, we have Lughnasa. It’s not like Thanksgiving at all. It’s an ancient Celtic harvest festival. We have food and drink and sport. Usually, there’s a long, post-meal walk up a giant hill. Then, according to tradition, everyone goes home and makes babies.”
“In Mexico we have many traditions for giving thanks. Our Lady of Guadelupe is one of our biggest holidays, many pilgrims leave their villages on foot, they walk for days to visit the basilica in Mexico City. Many of them walk barefoot until feet are bloody.”
“In South Korea, we celebrate ‘Chuseok.’ Celebration lasts for three day. All about gratitude. Very fun. Honor ancestors. Visit graves. Give many gifts. SPAM is very popular gift.”
“SPAM?” replied someone. “Seriously?”
“Many Asian cultures love SPAM.”
The Japanese kid smiled. Finally a word he understood. “SPAM! YES! SPAM! SO GOOD!”
“In India,” offered another, “we have so many holidays for giving thanks, I can’t even remember them all. There’s ‘Pongal,’ ‘Makar’ ‘Sankranti,’ ‘Baisakhi,’ ‘Onam.’”
“In Ghana, we have Homowo Festival. Much music, many dances, a traditional meal called ‘kpokpoi.’”
“In Israel, we have Sukkot. The original Jewish Thanksgiving. We build temporary huts, called ‘sukkahs’ made of wood or branches. Every family builds them. Some families even build them inside their apartments. You eat meals inside the hut, sleep inside, spending the entire holiday inside your sukkah. We do this to show gratitude, also to remember our ancestors who survived in the desert.”
“In Germany, ve have Erntedankfest. Zis word means ‘Harvest Thanksgiving Festival.’ Ve drink much beer.”
“In Ukraine, we celebrate Obzhynky. Big festival. Many parties. Many dancing. Priests make blessings. Mothers cook. We eat pirohy and borscht.”
“In China, we have Zhōngqiū Jié. Big holiday. Many family reunions. Children make lanterns. Families go moongazing together, just looking at the moon. We eat mooncakes—pastries, very sweet, a lot of sugar. Brush your teeth. Do not make dentist mad.”
The Japanese kid was smiling, from cheek to cheek, listening to the foreign conversation. But beneath it all, you could tell he felt left out.
So my wife attempted to ask the boy a question in ultra-simple English, communicating almost expressly with hand gestures.
“Do you have holidays in Japan for saying thank you?” she asked.
The kid’s eyes got big. He was desperately trying to understand.
“Thank you?” said Jamie. “A holiday for thank you?”
The boys face became one encompassing smile. Finally, a word he recognized. “THANK YOU! YES!”
You could tell he was thrilled to be included. He bowed to each of us in the group. Then he took turns hugging us. One by one. And with each hug he was saying, “thank you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking us?” asked someone.
The boy was still overcome with grins. “Thank you for friends. Now I not alone.”
And on this beautiful Thanksgiving holiday, I offer the same words to you.