What, to the homeless man, is Thanksgiving? I answer: a holiday that reminds him, more than any other hungry day in the year, the gluttony and selfishness to which he is the constant prey. To him, your feasts are ridiculous; your thankful humility, just empty words; your giving attitude, bitterly ironic; your television specials, a mockery of his suffering; your holiday spirit, vanishing in an instant; your clamoring for generosity and kindness, painful to his ears; your pumpkins and autumn leaves, your peace and togetherness, with all the Macy’s Parades and cranberry sauce, are, to him mere frivolity, excess, wastefulness, greed, and close-fisted behavior- a tablecloth thrown over miserly deeds which would shock a room full of businessmen.
