THANKSGIVING is a vignette from my forthcoming memoir, Angels on the Clothesline.  Publication April 2023.

In Angels on the Clothesline, I bridge time to be the compassionate presence missing from my childhood.  I witness the deeply painful experiences and the exquisite moments of joy.  What unfolds is an intimate and unflinching account of a child’s vulnerability, creativity, and irrepressible resilience.

Angels on the Clothesline is written in vignettes of poetry and narrative prose.  In THANKSGIVING, shared below, the child, into whose consciousness we enter, is seven, in second grade.

Thank you in advance for taking the time to see and hear this child.

One of my deepest hopes for this memoir is that it inspire readers to embrace themselves and others–particularly those who may be seen as “strangers,” as the other, with the compassion that can free and unite us. 

Listen to Ani read THANKSGIVING (text below):

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THANKSGIVING

You paste paper feathers on a construction paper turkey,
hoping it is not a sin, but how can you not do
what the teacher says.  Gobble gobble gobble
spreads in the schoolroom like the swell of syllables
in the small Elmer synagogue when a cluster of
devout men dressed in black rock back and forth,
praising God.  The second graders are not praising
the turkeys, you are pretty sure.

They seem to be having fun, which makes you think
this holiday is nothing like Passover or Yom Kippur.
Not sad.  Not a time to remember being slaves in Egypt
or trying not to get sealed in a heavy Book of Life,
wondering Who shall die by Fire and Who by Stoning.
Who by Drowning and Who by Snakes.
In school when they talk about Thanksgiving,
no one even mentions God.  Just Indians and pilgrims.

You never knew there could be a holiday
not commanded by God to celebrate, a holiday
not about remembering a miracle like Chanukah
when enough oil for just one night lasted for eight
in a Temple guarded by a small tribe.  A family
standing up to an army.  Or Purim when Queen Esther
stopped the hanging of the Jews by Haman.
The Red Sea parting, another miracle.  A bush
that would not stop burning on top of Mount Sinai,
where Moses got the Ten Commandments
on stone tablets he broke the first time around
because of the sin of worshipping a golden calf.

Sins.  Then miracles.  More sins.  Then thanking God
for forgiving his sinning people even though
they don’t deserve it.  Those are the holidays you know.
Not one when people stick paper feathers to things
even their behinds, and walk around saying
Gobble not God.  Laugh.  Have days off from school,
but not to walk miles to the synagogue
to stand for hours under a heavy blanket of prayers,
you almost never bored, your brother always.

You don’t know what American children
do at home on Thanksgiving besides eat turkey with gravy
and apple pies.  Their grandmothers and grandfathers will
be there, you hear them say.  Your grandparents
are dead.  Killed by Hitler.  Long before that,
they had to stop celebrating their holidays,
unless they sneaked them.
To light a Chanukah candle, small as a crayon,
was a sin to be killed for.  To have matzo.
To pray wrapped in a tallis.
Sins against Hitler, not God.

There’s so much you don’t understand.  Like God not
bringing miracles to stop Hitler.  Or a holiday
about turkeys when people are just happy
and no one is thinking about
God.

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Because of my childhood experiences of being such an “other,’ (including being the target of extreme bigotry, bullying and shaming that is highlighted in our vignettes)  I am particularly attuned to those made “other” in our society.

I pray and try to live the prayer that we learn together to be a more highly loving, highly functional human family, nationally and globally.

If my words and books can contribute as vessels of Love, I will be so deeply grateful.

With love and gratitude,
Ani