A Thanksgiving Story

Four years ago I had the good fortune to take one of the 3 trips I've been on in El Salvador.  During this trip I was part of a group that went to a remote village in the mountains to oversee a water pipeline project to bring potable water to the families of the village.  After the trip to the mountains, I got to participate in their annual celebration of the Death of the Jesuit Martyrs, their housekeeper and her daughter.  All and all it was a very moving experience and trip for me.  But that's only prelude to my real Thanksgiving story.

I arrived back in Seattle from this trip, dead tired on a Sunday night.  Thanksgiving holiday was on Thursday so I knew I had only a few days to tie up some loose ends at work and then get ready to celebrate the day with my family, most of whom live the Seattle-Tacoma area.  It was going to be a busy week.  When I listened to my messages that night I had a one from an old college buddy, John, who I see every couple of years.  John said something about someone who had stopped by and visited him in Missoula, Montana, and who was on his way to Seattle.  I really couldn't make out what the purpose of the message was so I saved the message and figured I would call John back the next day.  Not 10 minutes later I get a phone call.

"Hi Russ"

"Umm, yes."

"This is Andy."

"Who?"

"Andy, your friend from college.  Remember?"

Finally the light bulb went off  and I realized that John was forewarning me that Andy was coming to Seattle.  I thought to myself, Great!  I never knew Andy all that well but it's great that he's here.  We can go have some beers one night.

"Hey Andy, how are you?"

"I'm good.  I'm down here at the Seattle Greyhound Bus Terminal.  Would it be cool if I crashed at your place for the night?  There's an opportunity that I am checking out at the British embassy tomorrow."

At this point I had to do more thinking.  I left my apartment in shambles prior to my trip to El Salvador.  Furthermore, I rarely have guests and no overnight guests in the 2 years I lived in this small apartment.

"I can sleep on a couch, no problem," Andy said as if he was reading my mind.

Like I said, I was dog tired.  I replied, "Sure, okay.  I'll be down to pick you up in 30 minutes."

"Thanks, dude!"

I ran around and straightened up my place as best as I could for 15 minutes and then drove down to the bus terminal.  I was trying to remember what Andy looked like.  It had been 20 years since I'd finished my undergrad degree.  And it seems that Andy bailed out of college a year before getting a degree.  I couldn't remember what he was studying.  Dark hair, slight of build.  Okay, it was coming back to me.  I think I recall him inviting me to play Dungeons & Dragons with a group of friends.  We must have drunk beers at a bar together several times.  I couldn't remember ever having a class with him.

So I pulled into the lot at the station and as I started looking around, an older heavyset guy with gray hair shouted, "Russ!"

There was Andy.  Had I aged this much?  I was going to have to check a mirror when I got home.  We shook hands, he threw his 1 small tattered bag in the back seat and we drove back to my place.  I came to find out rather quickly that he'd spent many days travelling by bus out to Seattle, stopping at a few places.  My nose was the first to discover this fact because I'm pretty sure he hadn't showered in all that time, much less washed his clothes.  He told me about some opportunity at the British Embassy he was checking out but he was very vague about it.  When we got to my place I showed him the nearest bus stop and told him a bus could take him straight downtown to the embassy for $1.  He thanked me.  He asked if I had internet access so he could check the address and I showed him my computer and told him to go to it.  It was late, so I decided to crash. He was set up on the couch and as I drifted off to sleep I could hear the television which is rarely on at my place.

The next morning I told Andy he could help himself to any food that was around.  He asked me how far in walking distance it was to downtown.  I thought the question was strange since the bus was so direct but I answered that it was about an hour walk at a good pace.  Then I left for work.  I never thought much about Andy that day at work until I was on my commute home.  Then I started thinking how little I really knew him.  And how little I should probably trust him.  As I put the key into my front door lock I had my first sense of dread that perhaps he might have stripped the place clean.  But my fears were unwarranted.  There was Andy, sitting on the couch watching TV.  It turns out he found my bicycle on my back deck and used it in the chilly rains of Seattle to get himself to and from downtwon.  I thought, well that was a creative way to save a buck.  The British embassy experience had turned bust.  But he had an idea that a similar opportunity existed at the French embassy.  I asked him more about it and it had something to do with being a chef, or a cook or a culinary school or something.  He continued to be vague about it.  Thankfully, he had used some of my spare change around and washed his clothes in the washers and driers of the building, during the day.  He also had made full use of the shower facilities which I was also thankful for.

At this point I was wondering how long I would have this guest.  We mostly just watched TV that night which, again, I never do.  I originally figured he would probably stay at least 2 nights, so perhaps he would investigate the French embassy opportunity and be on his way on that day.  When I returned home on Tuesday night he was still in my apartment.  By this time I wasn't exactly a gracious host.  I'm sure I snapped at him.  Turns out there is no French embassy in Seattle.  The closest one was in San Francisco.  He told me he had friends in San Francisco and that he would spend the next day trying to track them down and see if he could find a place to stay for a night or 2.

So I crossed my fingers on that one and hoped for the best.  When I came home from work on Wednesday night, he was still there on the couch watching TV.  He told me hadn't been able to directly reach any friends in SF, yet, but that he was confident that one of them would put him up if simply travelled down there.  For some reason, I believed that was possible for Andy.  But then he sheepishly told me that the bus ticket was $79 and he had no money.

At this point I realized that I had hardly spent any time with Andy since he'd shown up on my doorstep.  And I hadn't spoken to him much either.  We hadn't reminisced.  We hadn't even caught up with what had happened in the intervening 20 years.  I told him to get his jacket and we headed out to a favorite haunt of mine for good beers and a huge bowl of gumbo.  We talked about a lot of things at the bar that night.  We did catch up.  We talked about our own individual troubles with finding a woman to share our lives with, both being bachelors still in our 40's.  I realized that I had always liked Andy at college and that I still liked him.  At the end of the night I went by an ATM cash machine, withdrew $300, and gave it to Andy.  I told him that I certainly hoped he would realize his dreams in San Francisco or somewhere down the road.

The next morning, Thanksgiving morning, I drove Andy to the bus station.  I spoke the truth when I told him that I really appreciated his visit.  I wished him well.  There was an awkward hug and I watch him walk away.  I spent the rest of the day at a church service and then with my family, celebrating in traditional way with Turkey and all the rest.

It wasn't until the drive back to my apartment that night that I understood what the true Thanksgiving moment was for me.  It was the experience of Andy.  And I laughed to myself when I finally remembered the 1 class Andy and I had shared... it was Oriental Philosophy.  Somehow I think we learned something in that class 20 some years ago.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!