In stressful times it can be hard to pull away from the conflicts in the world — local, national or international — and devote a minute, hour or day to being grateful. Once annually, Thanksgiving provides protected space for doing just that.
I’ve enjoyed two intertwined rituals over the last 70 years of Thanksgiving: the family dinner, held in places like Berwyn, Scranton, Indianapolis, Harrisburg and Oak Park and, during the decades I’ve lived here, a morning football game labeled with affection, the “Toilet Bowl.”
Why Toilet Bowl? My friend, Tom, one of the co-founders of the game in 1967, said, “All the good names were taken.”
This Thanksgiving, as we have for decades, we’ll meet first for breakfast at a restaurant on Ogden Avenue and then head west to a field near Park Avenue in Brookfield to play the game. Next year will mark our 60th — and final — battle.
Turkeys and footballs kind of look alike, especially when the bird is trussed and roasted. That’s not an original observation: I recall a Disneyland Thanksgiving pin with an ESPN logo that featured a football styled like a roasted turkey.
But what does football have to do with thankfulness? I can only speak for our game, but it begins with having old friends, spouses, in-laws, kids, maybe some kids’ friends, nephews and nieces piled around crowded tables in places like Tony’s Breakfast Cafe to share a pre-game breakfast and stories.
To open our breakfast, Rick — one of the other originators of this game and its meal — greets everyone, zings a couple of old buddies with well-meaning insults, and recalls some of the friends who, due to injury, illness or having passed, are not with us.
Then, over Denver omelettes, “hobo banquets,” French toast or other dishes on the varied menu, we talk. There’s no agenda. The conversations go in many directions, including the recounting of memorable moments from past gridiron contests.
And then there’s the game.
Speaking for myself, when I get out on that field after the breakfast as a 70-some-year-old and begin to run and throw a ball around with guys and girls of all ages, I feel grateful that I can do this at all.
I’m reminded that I’m mobile for an old guy. Last year after I hit the hard turf, rolled and got up, my son Dave complimented me on how well I could still fall!
The game itself provides an opportunity to update who can and can’t do what athletically. A niece got a lot faster. A son bulked up. One of the old guys now struggles to slide his feet when he’s supposed to be blocking; a quicker and younger rusher blew past him on the way to the quarterback.
The winning coach gets the trophy, built for this clash, years ago: two guys on a wooden block, one kicking the other in the butt. Thankful for the time together as well as the traditions that have formed over the years, we then head off to our various family dinners.
As I drive home through Lyons, Riverside, Berwyn or Oak Park after our Toilet Bowl, I take note of other games underway in different parks — mostly guys, but also girls and women — running or crouching in sweatshirts, some of them with Bears logos, stocking caps, jeans or athletic pants, all springing into action after a quarterback barks “hike!”
What makes this holiday different? We eat meals every day, some with extended family or friends. We watch football, baseball and other competitions throughout the year. Some of us work out with others or play sports ourselves. So why is it, on this day, doing so generates gratitude?
Because we’ve made a ritual of being thankful on this special holiday. We choose collectively to see it through the lenses of gratitude. It’s not that all the suffering and fighting in the world take a 24-hour pause. In fact, being thankful for what we do have can strengthen us to face those problems.
I appreciate the reminder that gratitude can become a habit. Its lens is always in reach. Faith, family, friends and community can help turn it on. Being grateful is a choice, no matter what we’re eating, who we’re covering in the “backfield,” or how our game plan is playing out.
Rich Kordesh grew up in Berwyn and is a longtime Oak Park resident.