To the trees that so readily shed their leaves on our front lawns, so that those of us unwelcome in the kitchen have something to do with our idle hands on Thanksgiving morning.

To all our relatives who make the special effort to convene in one place for one day, from grandparents who pull our cheeks to aunts who can't stop chattering. To little cousins who gleefully scatter those leaves we just raked. Thank you.

To the Thanksgiving feast experience, the rapid succession from gnawing hunger to gastronomic fulfillment To those who prepared the piles of food that never end and those who roasted and basted that turkey with succulent perfection.

To the quiet moment of remembrance of those less fortunate than ourselves, of those who cannot afford such a luxurious feast and others who must settle for canned turkey from a soup kitchen.

To those who have sacrificed their Thanksgiving so that others can enjoy it, from the Harvard Dining Service workers who prepare a feast for stranded students to the harried nurses and doctors, police officers and fire fighters who only have the time for a quick cafeteria turkey dinner.

To the tens of thousands of servicemen and women stationed across the world, separated from their families, who allow the nation they serve to enjoy Thanksgiving Day in comfort and security. Thank you.

To the stillness that creeps into the house at day's end, when all the dishes are washed and all the leftovers are wrapped. To unfinished crossword puzzles and half-opened board games scattered around the living room, bathed by the warm glow of crackling fires and family members.