Thanksgiving is the holiday I look forward to the most every year.
It’s a Sherman family tradition to saddle up the SUV at my parent’s home in Cleveland, Ohio and make the pilgrimage to Madison, Wisconsin. That Dairyland celebration always includes an evening of my Aunt Janet and Uncle’s Gary’s famous cooking and whole days spent together as a family.
My Dad, who grew up in Ann Arbor and Detroit, will add that part of the annual tradition is watching the Detroit Lions (or as he calls them “the Lie-Downs”) disappoint a national television audience. They look to be pretty good this year, though — but my heart is still with my injury-laden Browns.
I already knew this Thanksgiving would be different. It’s the first without my Grandmother, Jean, who was the true matriarch of the Sherman family. She would have been 96 this Turkey day, and we miss her dearly.
But let me tell you: spending Thanksgiving in the Middle East was not on my bingo card this year. It’s my first outside the United States, and my first separated from loved ones by an ocean and an entire continent.
“Where were you when it all happened?” is a question I’ve been repeatedly asked. To be honest, I was in London on October 7th taking a trip with my family: my parents’ first time out of the country in decades. More specifically, I was at the Tower of London listening to an animated Beefeater recount the centuries of English history. The audience of tourists was in awe as they listened to tales of the Monarchy’s bloody past.
I didn’t make it to the end of the tour. While much of the United States was still sleeping, the news came across our phones. It only took a few moments to realize the world had changed October 7th. Less than 24 hours later, I was on the ground in Israel. I’ve been here ever since.
So yes, this Thanksgiving is different for me. Yet sitting here in the Middle East, temporarily calling a country home that doesn’t celebrate the American holiday, I’ve never felt more in tune with the spirit of Thanksgiving.
My colleagues Adrienne Bankert, Nick Smith, and Kelsey Kernstine discussed this on Morning in America Tuesday. Sometimes, in the midst of the hustle and bustle of life as we long for what we don’t have, we lose sight of the things that make us whole.
The recommendation? Make a gratitude list. Here’s mine.
Today, there are thousands of Israelis preparing to celebrate another Shabbat this weekend with empty seats at the table. Some of those seats are supposed to be filled by the people currently being held hostage. Others belong to those killed October 7th. In a country of less than 10 million, every void feels immense. Seeing that makes me grateful for my friends, family, and the people I have in my life. I won’t take their place at the dinner table for granted again.
Today, there are over 14,000 Gazans dead according to the Gaza Health Ministry and another 1.7 million displaced per the UN. Most in Gaza neither have access to clean water nor power as whole neighborhoods have been reduced to rubble. Knowing that makes me grateful for the roof over my head and the everyday amenities I’ve become far too accustomed to. I won’t think of them the same way going forward.
And today, there are tens of millions around the Middle East who look at the weeks ahead with dreaded uncertainty.
The civilians in Israel who will inevitably run in and out of bomb shelters.
The civilians in Gaza who don’t know if they’ll have a home to return to.
The civilians in Lebanon who fear they’ll be caught in the middle of a war they didn’t sign up for if Hezbollah continues ramping up its attacks. Not to mention the countless more around the region who fear the war could expand and drastically impact their lives.
Many of us have the luxury and privilege of escaping the realities in the Middle East. We can close the laptop when we’ve read enough horrifying stories. We can shut off the television when we’ve seen enough gruesome images.
The same cannot be said for the people here. There is no escaping the nightmare. They must live it every day.
As you sit down for your Thanksgiving dinner tonight, I hope you think of the many who have lost so much, and the many more with nothing left.
Maybe the Lions won’t win. Maybe the Cowboys will come up short. Maybe the kitchen table drama will feel insufferable or that backhanded remark from your cousin will sting too much.
But rest assured, if that’s the worst of your problems, you have plenty to be thankful for.
Take it from me: a guy who struggles with being present who is feeling more thankful this Turkey Day than ever before.
Happy Thanksgiving,
Robert Sherman
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