Lonely student discovers Thanksgiving at Midd

Author: Thompson Davis

Editor's Note: This Thanksgiving The Campus asked Thompson Davis '08 to brave the harsh Middlebury frontier and report on what Thanksgiving is like when the world abandons you. A native of Miami, Florida, Davis was not accustomed to the ways of the cold Middlebury climate. Below, find his account.

Culturally, Miami is as removed from America as much as, well, I don't know, Spain is. Because there are no seasons, all of the cold weather holidays seem pretty goofy. Simply put, Thanksgiving and Christmas don't matter (Hannukkah is huge). So I decided to take it easy this Thankgiving, save a few bucks on airfare, and stay put for the holiday. Besides, I had to record my debut EP, "Young, Invincible, and Poor," out Dec. 13. I thought things would be great. I'd finally be able to have some "me" time, catch up on some homework and record a watershed album. What could go wrong?

On Thursday I woke up to the sound of eerie silence. Ross was completely devoid of any life, human or animal. I missed the usual bedlam but there were some perks. In the bathroom I let go completely. I let the toothpaste run down my chin instead of self-consciously hoarding it in my cheeks, and after my shower I was able to air dry by sprinting naked through the halls. It was extremely effective. Things were looking up. In the studio the album was shaping up great because there were no distractions. I was getting used to this ghost town.

However, things took a turn for hungry around 7 p.m. I was famished and since I had exhausted what had seemed to be an endless supply of spearmint/menthol lozenges, I parka'd up, and decided to brave the elements to find sustenance. I wandered about campus raving and screaming like a lunatic hoping that someone would take me in, but alas, no one could hear me scream (did I make a sound?). It was quite distressing to be so alone.

Finally, having endured what seemed like years of cold and wandering, I had an epiphany and decided to make the trip down the hill. You see, there is this house down there called Weybridge, and the College gives them, like, a million dollars a year to buy food so I figured I would find something. I made the trip and when I got there I saw a light on in the kitchen! My heart leapt!

But alas! The beacon of hope was a trick! On the kitchen table was a fresh loaf of hot organic bread, but when I tried to open the door I found it to be locked. And I cried tears, but tears do not open locks. I sped away on my bike furious and delirious from hunger. What kind of Thanksgiving was this? What the heck did I have to be thankful for?

I would have continued to feel sorry for myself had I not hit the curb and fallen into the street. Luckily, I only hurt my hand, but it hurt a lot.

But then, a Thanksgiving miracle happened. As I sat there in the middle of the street nursing my cold, bloody hand I suddenly heard a voice. It was a soothing lyrical voice full of empathy and goodness. The voice came from a young gent with jet-black hair, who was more aptly dressed for the harsh winter than I. He seemed very friendly and he turned out to be a Middlebury student hailing from India. Like the settlers long ago, I rejoiced in his companionship.

I followed him to what he called "Jewitt" and, lo and behold, there we found many eager eaters. We ate curry and rice with our hands. It was heavily spiced, very hot and extremely delicious. Much better tasting than turkey and gravy. But it wasn't all about the food. My fellow diners proved to be excellent dining companions. In the end, instead of going through the rote motions that usually constitute your typical Thanksgiving, I was able to expand my cultural horizons and be genuinely thankful for the brotherhood that resides within the human spirit. Isn't that what Thanksgiving is really about?