Giving Thanks in Challenging Times

Our Black Friday has been more sky blue, evergreen and bleached grey.  We’ve barely left the windswept, lakeside home in Michigan graciously made ours for the weekend by a friend and colleague of Leslie’s.  Just now, at sunset, Leslie and I walked down the hill to the beach and to the castle that gives Castle Park (between Saugatuck and Holland) its name.

Our families are far-flung for the holiday, and with me just back from New Zealand and Leslie still gaining strength, neither of us much felt like traveling far or braving crowds.  Our wonderful friend Katie came up to Chicago from Tennessee for an extended visit, and accompanied us around the lake.

 

We did most of the prep and mise en place for our Thanksgiving dinner in Chicago, before leaving midday on the holiday (avoiding all traffic).  Our gift house has a well-equipped kitchen, so we had only to roast the turkey breasts from our "happy meat" farm, toss the sweet potato "coins" in olive oil and herbes de provence and roast them, make the mashed potatoes, heat the Kleeman-family-traditional carrot ring and stuffing, and dish out the cranberry relishes.  We did make one concession - Trader Joe box o' gravy, since we weren't sure the turkey breasts would yield enough drippings.

 

Open the wine and voila!  Thanksgiving dinner for a crowd, with only three to serve!

The traditional Thanksgiving toasts caught in the throat, just a bit.  Our annus horribilis (to quote the Queen) has been well documented in this blog, though we've written less about other family difficulties like fathers (both of ours) who suffer from deepening dementia and mothers on whose shoulders so much caregiving has fallen.  Katie has had her own challenges.

The soundtrack to Thanksgiving 2011 could easily be more Cee Lo (F*** You) than Earth Wind & Fire ("Gratitude").

Nonetheless, we found many things to be thankful for, first and foremost that Leslie is alive and doing well, thanks to the skill and care of many doctors, nurses and technicians.  From surgery to post-op setbacks to recovery and strengthening to chemo, we have been blessed with a medical staff that works and relates to one another as a team, mutually dependent and appreciative of one another's roles.  Leslie makes it a practice to learn and remember every caregiver's name, and this small gesture has meant she's recognized and treated with respect and warmth by all, even those whose daily lives are an endless stream of patients.  (I marvel, too, at Leslie's ability to be gracious and appreciative of someone who's just pumped several liters of toxic chemicals into her belly; see her posting about about what's done to you and what's done for you.)

We're thankful for our longtime friends who have rallied around us, and also that we've made so many new friends.  The house in Michigan where I'm writing this belongs to the family of a teaching colleague of Leslie's.  She only knew her in passing before this year, but over wine, barbecue and my first-ever martini with her and her husband, we've found a sympatico couple who share our preference for spur-of-the-moment get-togethers.  Friendships take on new dimensions -- among my running friends, some have shared their own stories of illness and recovery or caregiving; others - the doctors in our group - have been solicitous and generous with information.

We're fortunate, too, to have close and caring families.  I left for two weeks in New Zealand the day after Leslie's last chemo treatment; that would have been impossible, or at least uncomfortably anxious, but for Leslie's brother and sister-in-law coming to stay with her at the start, and my sister and brother-in-law visiting toward the end (with a visit to our daughter in California in the middle).  My mother and my aunt have struck up sustained and enjoyable e-mail conversations with Leslie.

We are thankful that we've raised strong and giving children, who have not complained that their mom and dad have been somewhat unavailable to parent this year.  That said, we're equally appreciative that they are open and confident enough to tell us when they do need our strength, as when Emily told Leslie at one point this summer, "I just need a mommy right now."  Both kids have found boyfriends who are rocks of support and gems of thoughtfulness.

When I first met Leslie, I used to say what I liked most about her was her ability to be equally at home in a softball uniform or an evening dress.  After the last six months, I can say that she is as graceful in extreme duress as she in in fancy dress.  I'd be lying to say "it's not fair," has never passed her lips, but I've never heard "it's too hard" or "what's the point."

Dark has fallen on Castle Park, and tonight's turkey soup is on the stove.  Katie has headed home, and -- as it's often been for the past six months -- it's just Leslie and me and a quiet house.  Here it is Black Friday, and we've bought nothing, but we have everything.