…with Gary Moss

You don’t have to be looking for inspiration to find it. You just have to be living with your eyes and heart open. It can arrive in the most unlikely forms; from the lips of the most unlikely sources.

It was not difficult at all to be inspired by the current movie being shown, ‘Blind Side’. The story of a boy from the worst side of the tracks, surviving the ghetto, being adopted, and then going on to do great things. It can make even the most hardened cynic melt.

Last evening, the annual toll of the Thanksgiving bell brought six strangers and friends together in the warm setting of a home in Green Valley, Arizona. The scene was most likely mirrored in Bexley, Ohio, Gold Hill, Oregon, and Blufton, South Carolina. Each host or hostess took an action by inviting their guests to partake in the unique America experience, that we’ve all come to cherish as The Thanksgiving Feast.

Great care was taken in setting the table. Love was poured into every ingredient that went into the stuffing for the turkey. All the pre-meal traditions were attended to, as the multitudes watched the Macy’s Parade and a bit of football. (It was a tad bitter-sweet for Lion’s fans who watched their dismal team lose for the 7th straight Thanksgiving.) But with that over and done, the best was yet to come; and the clocks ticked their way to the appointed time for the feast.

Some guests arrived right on time, others on more leisurely regimens. All carried offerings of for the table: a waldorf salad; squished potatoes; a pumpkin pie; candied yams; green beans, wine. And at just the precise time, the turkey, brimming with stuffing, emerged from from oven, joining it’s delicious aroma that had already permeated the entire home.

Even on Thanksgiving. . . is it possible to NOT create first impressions of others? At first, I found myself pigeonholing people, especially people whom I had never met before, by their appearance, their characteristics, the sounds of their voices, the words that they uttered. In 15 seconds or less, I had enough information to form my assessments. The gracious hostess made introductions, going well beyond just names. Along with the person’s name she shared a fact or two about who this person was or where they had met, or what they do.

And is always the case, the way we see people takes a dramatic shift, the more that we know about them.

Each person in the room was a series of books. Each individual was jammed full of interesting tales and vignettes. The conversation flowed without any need of prodding. We were descendants of Danish and French and English and Russian and Swedish immigrants. All found their way to this great land by their own means for their similar purposes: a better life. All in our group expressed dissatisfaction with the current state of affairs in the country, but there was no consensus as to a solution. We tread likely on our political differences for the evening, instead we focused on giving honor to the spirit of the day.

We lingered around the table after dinner, sharing personal thoughts and stories about our favorite Thanksgivings in our past. An array of remembrances, vastly different, each led to other stories, many with memorable and inspiring themes.

We all shifted to the living room with a warm satisfaction of having dined with old friends. And just as the coffee and pumpkin pie completed our repast, our conversations eventually drifted back to the more mundane, signaling that the evening was winding down. Strangers who met just hours before with hand-shakes now hugged while saying their farewells.