After a lot of anticipation, the "Thanksgiving for the Turkeys" event was upon us. Having enjoyed the event so much the previous year, I was eager to go again. This year I had also been invited to a pre-event dinner the day before, so we took advantage of that opportunity to head up a day earlier than we would have otherwise.
While I am quite adept at the drive up by now and hardly have to think at all during the two hours, forty four minutes, and twelve seconds (give or take) of commuting, the excitement of the pre-dinner made things go faster.
Once I parked, I headed up to the Cattle Barn where I had last seen Elliot and Oliver together. Oliver was the newest calf at the Farm. He was a Jersey cow and while he was older than Elliot, he was smaller due to malnourishment. Apparently, he had been born on a diary farm and had been "gifted" to the farmer's teenage daughter who showed little to no interest in him. He had basically been allowed to starve prior to being surrendered to the Farm. He had arrived with a huge distended belly from the starvation and a distinct distrust of people. Oliver immediately took to the food he was provided and did his best to make up for missed opportunities. One of the interns had wanted to name him "Munchy Jr." on account of his voracious appetite, and I still think that name would have been cute. When we found Elliot and Oliver, they were lying outside next to the fence line. Elliot was chewing his cud, and Oliver was alternately guarding him and dominating him. I think that Oliver still had some remnants of concerns about the intentions of humans and he was trying to shield Elliot from whatever we may be there to do with him. Once he recognized that we were only there to pet him, he seemed to lighten up a bit and even relented to being petted himself.
Before long, my impromptu visit was over and it was time for me to head into town. I headed over to the Farwood Bar and Grill for the second time in eight hours and walked around town a couple times while we waited for the others to arrive. The town is very quaint and the type of place where you can walk around after dark without a foreboding sense of dread, which is always a welcome feeling. After my second lap, we decided to sit in the car and warm up since it was pretty chilly outside. I saw someone who resembled Don, one of the Farm Sanctuary employees from New York who we had met earlier in the day, and decided that it was close enough to the prescribed time to head inside. It turned out it was Don and somehow Leanne had also snuck in. As we made our way to the table, other folks from the group started to come in as well and we took our seats around the table. It was a pretty formidable group, consisting of Gene Baur (Who remembered portions of my draft "book" that I had provided him a copy of), Dr. Allan Kornberg, Leanne, Don and another member of the Farm Sanctuary team from New York, Cameron (Who I had met in Ohio during the signature gathering effort) Sophia Pospisil, Sarah Lux, John Salley (Of NBA fame), and his friend Shannon. Then there was me and I was feeling a little inadequate, as was the case last time at the Hoe Down pre-dinner. I was grateful for being invited and decided to do my best to fit in with this illustrious bunch, many of whom I already had the utmost respect for.
The fact that the food was awesome certainly helped lubricate the evening's conversation and, as was the case last time, I found that the talk made the evening flow by very smoothly once I got over my misgivings about whether I deserved to be there or not. I had been aware of John Salley before, but frankly had no idea what to expect. My image of basketball players has been formed by the headlines that I generally see when they are misbehaving. I couldn't have been more surprised. He was a charming man and a true believer. He shared a lot about his path to where he is today and did so in a very candid and genuine manner. I had not expected to be star-struck, but I have to admit that I was. When one of the patrons stopped by to ask for a picture and an autograph, I kicked myself for not having brought my camera.
After about three hours of conversation and fine dining, it felt like it was time to go. I knew Mike and Kerrie would probably have to wake up early and I hated the thought of them waiting up for me. I excused myself and headed "home". When I got there, Mike was waiting and Kerrie was in the back room. After much fawning over Lucy, we headed off to our respective bedrooms for the night. While Kerrie had been concerned that the bed may be too hard for my taste, it was just fine. I couldn't get over how quiet it was. As someone who frequently wears ear-plugs to block out the world, this was my paradise. This point was illustrated profoundly during the night when I heard a strange noise in the room. It turned out to be the sound of a cat licking her paws in the corner of the room. I would never be able to hear something like that back home where the car noise, air plane noise, and just general worldly din provide constant accompaniment. It was really cool!
When I woke up, it was apparent that we had a lot of time on our hands. The registration for the event wasn't until twelve thirty and it was only about nine when we were ready to go. I hazarded a guess that there may be something that I could help out with and it turned out that I was right. It bears mentioning that I was not entirely comfortable with the idea of being a "guest" rather than a volunteer. When I am volunteering, I have a purpose. When I am a guest, I just feel awkward, so I was jonesing for some purpose. Due to the threat of inclement weather, a large tent had been erected on Friday and it was about time to move in the tables and chairs. I helped a gentleman named Clint with this. We helped set out some of the pumpkins, which were pretty familiar from last week's visit to the farm in Redding where I had collected thirty three of them.
Once that was done and there was little else to help with, I waited for the event to start and prayed that the ominous clouds would move on or break-up. After registration opened and I signed in, I waited for a special "Hilda Club Member" tour of the farm with Leanne and Don. Apparently, the weather decided that we were so special that we needed another shower because it started to rain almost immediately after we began our walk from the People Barn to the Farm proper. The rain continued for most of the day, but I found inspiration in this. The previous year, it had been chilly, but otherwise wonderful weather. It doesn't take much commitment to be out in about in those circumstances. On a cold and rainy day like today, the number of people who were here were a testament to the commitment and concern for the animal's well-being. This may be another example of my attempts to turn lemons into lemonade, but it was a genuine feeling.
I love events like this because I am often given the opportunity to talk to people about my experiences at the farm. I don't know as much as the caretakers, but I consider myself to be quite observant and I believe that my zeal for the place is apparent. During this day's event, I had the chance to share many of my stories and answer a lot of questions. I even had the chance to have my picture taken by one of the reporters (As far as I can tell it was never released...when you have the choice of cute kids with animals and grizzled old-guys with animals, the kids will always win) and had an interview with another from the Chico Enterprise Review (From which an excerpt did make it into the paper). I really enjoy testifying on the part of the animals and their wonderful caretakers.
After a few hours of animal visits and the turkey feeding ceremony, it was time to head up for dinner. Everyone seemed quite eager to get in from the rain since it was getting colder as the sun was setting and the tent provided ample protection from the rain as well as some nice heat blowers. As the speeches began, most people had defrosted and were drying out. I won't pretend to remember all of the names of the people at our table. I do remember Kristen since she and I had worked together during one of the work parties and it was nice to see her again. I believe we also had a number of lawyers around the table and a young lady named Emily and her mother. Before the speeches and the food, we had the chance to chat back and forth about who we were and how we had arrived here at this place, both literally and figuratively. I am always impressed by how far many people come for these events.
The evening's food was excellent and I have to say that the line-up of speakers was probably my favorite to date. Allan was the de facto MC for the evening and there were speeches from Diane Lee and Marilee Geyer, whose book "Ninety-Five" has residence on my bookshelf, John Salley, who we had met the night before, Gene Baur who never fails to deliver, and Leanne who gave a touching talk on the plight of the turkeys. In between speeches, I couldn't resist getting a picture with John who was gracious enough to accommodate and to explain he had reacted the way that he did to my stories about our pet rats the night before; He is a fellow rodent lover. I had only two tasks left on my to-do list. I wanted to get Gene's signature on my copy of his book and I had to pay for any items that I had won in the silent auction. Once both of these were done, it was time to hit the road for the long-drive home.
On the road home, my mind kept getting drawn back to the Farwood Bar and Grill and the discussion with John Salley there. He had been asked about the origin of the beads that he wore around his neck and he had explained that these had been given to him by the Dalai Lama during a visit with him. As part of this story, he had shared some of the questions that he had asked him during their visit. One in particular had stuck with me, although I may have to paraphrase. In essence, it was, "When did you know that you were you?" in reference to his calling. I remember being struck by the question, so much so that I don't recall the exact answers, although I think it involved some initial denial and only later an acceptance. I found this question to be very profound and not just in this context. When do any of us know who we are? How many of us even bother to ask rather than being swept along with the tides of life? How many of us find excuses for not being who we are meant to be? How many of us will take the risks required to connect with our destiny? In a way, my personal answer to this question is what keeps calling me back to Orland.
