Special guests invited to dinner provided one family with lessons they still remember.

It was the custom in our house to invite a special guest to celebrate Thanksgiving Day with our family. There was a different guest each year.

Some of these special guests were great favorites – like the elderly woman who praised us and brought us candy. Many create memories I recall to this day.

At the time, however, we, as children, did not really want the extra person to be in on our family day. We didn’t know them and thought they were intruding. We didn’t dare express this openly. We knew we were being selfish. We knew we had better put on a welcoming face; but among ourselves we grumbled.

In my mind’s eye, I can see my mother, face flushed from her activities in the kitchen, rushing to the door to welcome our visitors. Usually Dad would have picked them up at their house and brought them to ours.

I can see most of the guests quite vividly. There was a retired clergyman who believed in chewing every mouthful of food 40 times. We were teenagers by then, and we thought we would never get away from the table. We fidgeted while he talked and chewed. The stern gaze of our father reminded us that no one ate pie until our guest was ready for his.

There was the woman who had just lost her husband. She cried through most of the meal. I remember how she hugged our mother when she left; and thanked “these lovely children for sharing their Thanksgiving Day with me.” I remember my shame on hearing her words, and knew that my sisters were feeling the same.

There was the red-headed young man, just home from the state hospital, who brought his new shotgun to show our father. I remember Dad saying quietly, “It’s better not to point the gun at people or to look down into the barrel.” I was sure somebody was going to be shot that day. Years later, that same young man wrote to my mother from the mental institution where he had spent his adult life. In the letter, he described that day and the happy memories of sharing the holiday with a family.

I’m sure my parents were not the only people who had that Thanksgiving Day custom. It was a part of the tradition that grew out of that first Thanksgiving Day when our forefathers joined with American Indians to share a great feast.

During a recent conversation about this, a young friend said, “Oh, I would never inflict that on my children. It’s their day! It’s for the family!”

Nonsense! It’s their day to learn, their day to share, their day to find out that not everybody has the luxurious lifestyle they enjoy. It’s their day to find out that some people are born handicapped. It’s their day to find out that we all get old, and we all lose loved ones. It’s their day to find out that we need each other.

That long line of special guests contributed a great deal to the lives of my sisters and me. In inviting them to share our meal, our parents gave us a code of conduct for our own adult lives, one we have tried to pass on to our children.

There is a lot of talk these days about family values. Thanksgiving Day is a good time to start remembering those values. Happy Thanksgiving Day! Happy time of sharing!

Miriam Snow Priebe lives in Mechanic Falls and Gulfport, Fla.

Copy the Story Link