Why is it so important for me to drive on this day?

Preparations are set.

My 2013 Chevrolet Cruze “Dracourage” is filled with a full tank of gas. My satellite radio station is cued up to SiriusXM’s “Holly” channel, so I can stream tons of holiday music on my travels.

I’ve got my Equinox baseball cap, and a fresh clean face mask for COVID-19 safety. Oh, and the weather looks kinda brisk. Gotta bundle up for warmth.

And a new wrinkle. Instead of relying on the GPS in my cell phone to get me from point A to point B, I’m pulling in the directions from OnStar. I’m trusting you on this, OnStar, this is our first true holiday together. Don’t mess this up.

I’m ready to drive. All I need to do is pick up the turkey dinners and I’m on my way.

With that, I’m sure there are those of you who wonder why I make such a big deal out of this trip. Why I prepare myself for this journey. Why I deliver turkey dinners for Equinox on this day of all days.

I can tell you why.

No one should go hungry on a day where we gather to celebrate a bountiful harvest and our time with family and loved ones. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, white or black, Asian or Caucasian, any of that.

I’ve been down this road. I’ve spent Thanksgivings alone and unwanted. It’s a horrible feeling. And whatever I went through, none of you should experience that.

So I deliver.

  • I deliver to the woman in the hill towns whose son couldn’t make it back home for the holidays, because he was still deployed in the Middle East.
  • I deliver to the family in the trailer park, whose little girl told her parents that Santa Claus just brought Thanksgiving dinner.
  • I deliver to the man in the roadside motel whose parents still won’t let him come home because they don’t want a gay son at their table.
  • I deliver to the heartbroken man who’s spending his first Thanksgiving alone, after COVID took the love of his life away.
  • I deliver to the war veteran who shares his meal with the service dog he brought back with him from the battlefield.
  • I deliver to the woman who tried to hand me a $10 tip, which I told her I would not accept, but to give it instead to her church so that someone else may have food on another day.
  • I deliver to the family who wants to invite their neighbor for dinner, so that no one would be unwelcome on this day.
  • I deliver to rescue a pitbull that was left overnight in the cab of a frosted-over truck in sub-freezing weather.
  • I deliver to the college student who couldn’t afford to go home for the holidays.
  • I deliver to the person who still can’t believe that Equinox brings turkey dinners out to the hill towns, or to the inner cities, or to the trailer parks, or to the recovery shelters.
  • I deliver to people who don’t even need a reason to ask for the food. All who ask shall receive. No one should be judged because they receive a Thanksgiving meal form a charity.

Trust me. This is my emotional center. This is how I’m wired.

So let’s do this. Hit the road. Bring the food. Do the good deed. And let your soul rise, like a buoyancy in a sea of peace.

See you on the road.