"Gratitude is the inward feeling of kindness received. Thankfulness is the natural impulse to express that feeling. Thanksgiving is the following of that impulse." ~~Henry Van Dyke
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Thanksgiving 2011. If someone had asked me a year ago where I thought I might find myself on Thanksgiving in 2011, I would never have said McMurdo Station, Ross Island, Antarctica. A year ago I was living in Juneau, AK deep frying a turkey with a gathering of close friends.
But here I am. It proves that you never know where life will take you. When I look back on it, I think the last ten years of my life have proved that answer to life’s question over and over on a continual basis.
Yet, I constantly have to keep reminding myself.
You never know where life will take you. The remedy to that is: live it one day at a time and be thankful for what you’re given whether it’s big or small. Don’t question, don’t fret. Take it as it is. It could be a whole lot worse. And for someone out there, it is, sadly enough.
I’ll admit Thanksgiving has not always been a major event for me other than an opportunity to spend time with my family. It’s been more of my brother’s holiday considering the fact that he was actually born on Thanksgiving Day. So in a way I’d say he has the right to call it his holiday. Pumpkin pie is his favorite pie. He loves eating turkey.
Me, well: I don’t watch football. I don’t like pumpkin pie. I don’t like gorging myself on so much food that I have to sit back and unbutton my pants so I can breathe. It’s not exactly my thing. But yet I’m still thankful. The idea of eating a ton of food isn't always that exciting for me, but the idea of cooking all that food is. And that was how I filled my niche when it came to Thanksgiving and giving back.
I grew up on a dairy farm and that dairy farm is what my mother and father still operate today. It’s just my mom and dad; a two man operation. They are modern day heroes. Despite the challenges of commercialized farming, they are still plugging away. They are living a way of life that pretty much no longer exists when it comes to providing food for this country. I was raised on a lifestyle that many today view as a novelty such as “the weekend farmer.” Today, people would love to live the lifestyle I grew up with as long as they could walk away from it after a weekend. But for us, it was reality. It was food on our plates and a roof over our heads. My dad lives and breathes dairy farming. My mom lives and breathes dairy farming for my father. Without him, she wouldn’t know what to do. Without her, he’d be lost. They are the June Carter and Johnny Cash of the 21st century. They walk down the center of the barn holding hands each morning. When I was young, it made me squirm to see their affection. Today, that memory of them holding hands brings a tear to my eye. It’s a friendship and a connection that I can only hope for and may someday find in the right person. I am thankful for the upbringing and beliefs that they instilled in me as a child to make me who I am today. They might not realize it, but it’s because of them I am here today in Antarctica.
They raised me to be strong and to survive.
And for that I am thankful.
To show my gratitude I would cook for them when I was able to make it home for the holidays. Working in my mother’s kitchen with all her cook books was my zen garden. The smell of freshly baked rolls and a roasting turkey in the oven would make my taste buds salivate. I would put all my heart and soul into cooking to provide them with a meal that they could not always produce on their own because they didn’t have the time when it was just the two of them. At this point I have been away from home for so long that I no longer know the regular routine that they have for chores in the barn. But what I could do for them was cook. That was easy for me.
And so I cooked.
This year, I’m here, in Antarctica. Ironic isn’t it? The holidays are meant to be close with your family, yet here I am, the furthest away you could possibly get.
At the bottom of the world.
I couldn’t cook for my family. I couldn’t even call them because I was in transition to night shift so my days and nights had suddenly become a blur and I didn’t know which was which, or what was up or down.
But there was still a family here, a family of new friends and co-workers, people who cared and smiled when they saw you. We had a staff of chefs and bakers and dining attendants who prepared our Thanksgiving meal for us. None of us had to lift a finger to prepare a single dish. We could simply don our one set of nice dress clothes they all told us to bring down and walk in and take a seat.
Thanksgiving 2011. If someone had asked me a year ago where I thought I might find myself on Thanksgiving in 2011, I would never have said McMurdo Station, Ross Island, Antarctica. A year ago I was living in Juneau, AK deep frying a turkey with a gathering of close friends.
But here I am. It proves that you never know where life will take you. When I look back on it, I think the last ten years of my life have proved that answer to life’s question over and over on a continual basis.
Yet, I constantly have to keep reminding myself.
You never know where life will take you. The remedy to that is: live it one day at a time and be thankful for what you’re given whether it’s big or small. Don’t question, don’t fret. Take it as it is. It could be a whole lot worse. And for someone out there, it is, sadly enough.
I’ll admit Thanksgiving has not always been a major event for me other than an opportunity to spend time with my family. It’s been more of my brother’s holiday considering the fact that he was actually born on Thanksgiving Day. So in a way I’d say he has the right to call it his holiday. Pumpkin pie is his favorite pie. He loves eating turkey.
Me, well: I don’t watch football. I don’t like pumpkin pie. I don’t like gorging myself on so much food that I have to sit back and unbutton my pants so I can breathe. It’s not exactly my thing. But yet I’m still thankful. The idea of eating a ton of food isn't always that exciting for me, but the idea of cooking all that food is. And that was how I filled my niche when it came to Thanksgiving and giving back.
I grew up on a dairy farm and that dairy farm is what my mother and father still operate today. It’s just my mom and dad; a two man operation. They are modern day heroes. Despite the challenges of commercialized farming, they are still plugging away. They are living a way of life that pretty much no longer exists when it comes to providing food for this country. I was raised on a lifestyle that many today view as a novelty such as “the weekend farmer.” Today, people would love to live the lifestyle I grew up with as long as they could walk away from it after a weekend. But for us, it was reality. It was food on our plates and a roof over our heads. My dad lives and breathes dairy farming. My mom lives and breathes dairy farming for my father. Without him, she wouldn’t know what to do. Without her, he’d be lost. They are the June Carter and Johnny Cash of the 21st century. They walk down the center of the barn holding hands each morning. When I was young, it made me squirm to see their affection. Today, that memory of them holding hands brings a tear to my eye. It’s a friendship and a connection that I can only hope for and may someday find in the right person. I am thankful for the upbringing and beliefs that they instilled in me as a child to make me who I am today. They might not realize it, but it’s because of them I am here today in Antarctica.
They raised me to be strong and to survive.
And for that I am thankful.
To show my gratitude I would cook for them when I was able to make it home for the holidays. Working in my mother’s kitchen with all her cook books was my zen garden. The smell of freshly baked rolls and a roasting turkey in the oven would make my taste buds salivate. I would put all my heart and soul into cooking to provide them with a meal that they could not always produce on their own because they didn’t have the time when it was just the two of them. At this point I have been away from home for so long that I no longer know the regular routine that they have for chores in the barn. But what I could do for them was cook. That was easy for me.
And so I cooked.
This year, I’m here, in Antarctica. Ironic isn’t it? The holidays are meant to be close with your family, yet here I am, the furthest away you could possibly get.
At the bottom of the world.
I couldn’t cook for my family. I couldn’t even call them because I was in transition to night shift so my days and nights had suddenly become a blur and I didn’t know which was which, or what was up or down.
But there was still a family here, a family of new friends and co-workers, people who cared and smiled when they saw you. We had a staff of chefs and bakers and dining attendants who prepared our Thanksgiving meal for us. None of us had to lift a finger to prepare a single dish. We could simply don our one set of nice dress clothes they all told us to bring down and walk in and take a seat.
However, our small community had been in a world of white for over three days. Flights coming in and going out had been cancelled for three days straight due to the weather. The planes needed a 3 mile visibility in order to do an emergency landing if they ever needed to. The massive low pressure system that was sitting over us was determined to not give us the 3 mile visibility that we needed. It was Mother Nature’s way of reminding us that she was still in charge. We were at a standstill. On one of those flights from Christchurch, New Zealand were all the fresh vegetables and fruit that were supposed to be a part of our meal on Thanksgiving. It never showed up.
Believe it or not, people grumbled. No freshies for Thanksgiving? What!? Unacceptable.
Now, granted I haven’t even weathered a full two months here on Antarctic soil. I don’t have the right to be considered a “seasoned veteran.” That comes after twenty years of ice time. These are the people you bow down to. After twenty years, I suppose you have the right to complain over trivial things such as delayed flights holding delayed vegetables.
But I still found myself a little dumbfounded that people were actually complaining that there weren’t going to be any freshies for Thanksgiving. How had we lost track of the little things? The things that really mattered?
We are humans sitting on a continent of ice at the bottom of the world. In all honesty, we’re not supposed to be here. There are no people indigenous to Antarctica, but we greedy humans in the name of manifest destiny felt it was our right to set foot on this continent and stay.
And so here we are. We live in an environment that could easily kill us in a matter of minutes if we’re not prepared. McMurdo operates off of generators and if all backup generators failed, we’re done. We have planes landing on a mere six feet of sea ice because there is nowhere for a landing strip on Ross Island where McMurdo sits. If the ice goes, the runway goes and we’re done.
It’s as simple as that.
But here we are, complaining about no freshies.
Let’s be thankful for what we do have: warmth, food even (if it isn’t “fresh”), a once in a life time experience, and most of all, each other. We have each other.
I am thankful for that and this opportunity to be here sharing it with all these amazing people.
As it were, the cook staff pulled off a famously amazing meal without any freshies. It was so amazing they received a standing ovation. So I guess we were all thankful in the end after all.
And that was Thanksgiving in Antarctica. I was not there in New York with my family, but my heart was there.
What did you find yourself thankful for this holiday season?
Believe it or not, people grumbled. No freshies for Thanksgiving? What!? Unacceptable.
Now, granted I haven’t even weathered a full two months here on Antarctic soil. I don’t have the right to be considered a “seasoned veteran.” That comes after twenty years of ice time. These are the people you bow down to. After twenty years, I suppose you have the right to complain over trivial things such as delayed flights holding delayed vegetables.
But I still found myself a little dumbfounded that people were actually complaining that there weren’t going to be any freshies for Thanksgiving. How had we lost track of the little things? The things that really mattered?
We are humans sitting on a continent of ice at the bottom of the world. In all honesty, we’re not supposed to be here. There are no people indigenous to Antarctica, but we greedy humans in the name of manifest destiny felt it was our right to set foot on this continent and stay.
And so here we are. We live in an environment that could easily kill us in a matter of minutes if we’re not prepared. McMurdo operates off of generators and if all backup generators failed, we’re done. We have planes landing on a mere six feet of sea ice because there is nowhere for a landing strip on Ross Island where McMurdo sits. If the ice goes, the runway goes and we’re done.
It’s as simple as that.
But here we are, complaining about no freshies.
Let’s be thankful for what we do have: warmth, food even (if it isn’t “fresh”), a once in a life time experience, and most of all, each other. We have each other.
I am thankful for that and this opportunity to be here sharing it with all these amazing people.
As it were, the cook staff pulled off a famously amazing meal without any freshies. It was so amazing they received a standing ovation. So I guess we were all thankful in the end after all.
And that was Thanksgiving in Antarctica. I was not there in New York with my family, but my heart was there.
What did you find yourself thankful for this holiday season?
Here's a few photos from the Holiday Thanksgiving Weekend at McMurdo:
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| The Turkey Hosts of the Annual McMurdo 5k Turkey Trot |
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| One of the first runners coming in to the finish line being heckled by the Turkeys |
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| Thanksgiving Meal with all my co-workers. There were 31 of us. |
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| Travis one of my co-workers with his Turkey Leg |
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| A Visit By Some Turkeys at Dinner |
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| My fabulous Dinner |
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