Saturday, July 28, 2007

For many years, when I sit down at my dinner table -- with children, with other family, with friends -- we begin not by eating, but by saying our “thankfuls.”
It’s a form of blessing over the meal, but it’s also something more. It’s a way to acknowledge the good fortune in our lives, the small and large things for which we’re grateful every day. So on one day, my daughter might say she’s thankful that she was finally able to master paddling figure eights solo in a canoe; a friend might say he’s thankful for the meal we’ve cooked for him; and I might say I’m thankful for the pleasure of sitting down to dinner with a sweet daughter and a good friend.
But these days, after spending almost six months talking about hunger, after interviewing people across the state, after reading through several feet of reports and hundreds of websites and filling a special office with so much research material that one of my colleagues stopped by and asked, “Is someone doing an audit in here?”
I think that our thankfuls at dinner will simply be that we are grateful for the food we have on our plates and in our pantry. Until I did this series, I had no idea what a privileged life I led.




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