Wise Men and Other Stories Read Free Page A

dinner alone. They saw John sitting by himself and invited him to join them for Thanksgiving dinner.
    Unfortunately, John declined.
    “That was so stupid,” he says now. “There I was, all alone at Thanksgiving, missing my parents, and there was this nice couple—probably with a kid in college somewhere who couldn’t be with them for the holidays—and they were nice enough to invite me to have dinner with them. And I was too stupid to accept.”
    After that, John was so self - conscious that he rushed through his turkey dinner. He even skipped dessert so he could get out of the restaurant as quickly as possible. Instead, he stopped on the way back to his dormitory and bought a frozen pumpkin pie and a quart of Cool Whip.
    When he got back to his room, he scarfed down all of the pie and whipped cream in less than ten minutes. When he was finished, he was so bloated, tired, and emotionally exhausted that he practically passed out in his bed—empty pie pan at his side—and slept through the rest of Thanksgiving Day.
    “It was the worst Thanksgiving I ever had,” he says. But don’t feel too sorry for John. He gets lots of sympathy from anybody who will listen to his grim holiday tale. My wife and I, for example, were so moved by this tale of pathos, that we made a special Thanksgiving dinner for him when he visited last year—and it was only October. He won’t fess up, but I’m sure he’s parlayed his story into similar sympathy meals many times over.
    But the real bright spot of this story is, of course, the nice elderly couple. They tried to do the right thing. And even though it didn’t work out that time, they are to be lauded.
    It takes courage to reach across the gulf that separates one human being from another. We revel in our individuality, but there are times—and Thanksgiving is one such time—when we should be with other people to celebrate the things we have in common: occasional loneliness, yes; but also compassion, humor, an appreciation of beauty, and a once - a- year hankering for hot turkey and cold cranberry sauce.
    So the next time somebody asks you to join them for dinner, think seriously about accepting. And if you are doing the asking—and if you happen to be asking a self - conscious young college student from Idaho—please persist.

 
The Best Meals
     
    What was the best meal you ever had? The topic comes up every year at Thanksgiving at our place. After we’ve consumed another meal seemingly beyond compare, I invite friends and relatives to draw comparisons.
    The best meals don’t necessarily hinge on the food. Some meals are special because you earn them. In July 1987, after two days of strenuous hiking in the Sawtooth Mountains with my friend, John, I ended up at the Rember Ranch in Stanley, Idaho, where Betty Rember made a sourdough pancake dinner that I will never forget.
    Some meals are special because of the company. In August 1974, I went camping with three buddies from my old neighborhood. We were only 18, but the way we talked about the “good old days,” you would have thought we were in our eighties. That weekend, we feasted on catfish filets, fresh-baked bread, and bean soup that had simmered for 24 hours—all courtesy of Tom Mudd’s grandfather, who packed a meal for us when he learned all we were taking was hot dogs and RC Cola.
    But the best meal I ever had was in November 1983 in Genoa, Illinois. A group of friends and I drove from Galesburg to Rockford to see Eric Clapton in concert. Afterwards, it was too late to drive all the way home, so one of our party, Rick Foote, directed us to his grandparents’ house in Genoa.
    It was a modest home even by Genoa standards, and we arrived unannounced well after midnight. But Rick’s grandparents welcomed us with open arms and made beds for each of us.
    The next morning, my friends and I got up at dawn thinking we should leave before we wore out our welcome. But Rick’s grandmother beat us to the punch. The kitchen