The Thank You Song

Last week at the Wrecking Bar, Professor Crane asked us to think about our most memorable meals. Good, bad, somewhere in the middle- the quality of the food wasn't so much the question, but rather the experience. With further thought, I realized that many of my most memorable meals are related to my participation in choir I had during college. Each year, our choir of 75 students would go on a two-week tour to a different region of the country. With each performance, we were hosted for the evening by group (usually a church or arts organization) who would feed all of us before our concert. So, in the course of my three years, I had about 42 such dinners.

The quality of the meals varied enormously. I think the worst meal I had was in Madison, Wisconsin, were we were served sloppy joes, coleslaw, and plain white rice. On the other hand, some hosts were enthusiastic about serving us a nice meal. One of my favorite meals was in Savannah, Georgia, where our host paid for us to eat at Mrs. Wilkes' Boarding House- a restaurant where everyone sits at dining room tables and dishes are laid out family-style. I remember trying about fifteen different types of delicious southern food, and the thought of their biscuits haunts me to this day.

But despite the variety in the food quality, the dinner experience always had a firm protocol for the way we were served. We were usually seated at circular tables that could each fit about eight people. While we were free to choose our seats, the choir president had the responsibility of randomly dismissing the tables one-by-one to go up to the tables or kitchen to receive a plate. There was often a subtle anxiety to this part of the meal, as it would sometimes take fifteen or twenty minutes for the last table to be dismissed to get their food. But despite the general hanger that we all felt at one point or another, we enjoyed being able to eat with each other and getting to know one another outside the context of our concerts. My favorite meals were the ones where, once it was over, I felt like I had gained a more genuine relationship with the people I was sitting with.

And, at the end of every meal, we had the tradition of singing a thank you song to the cooks. Our president and vice-president would bring the makers of the meal out from the kitchen or serving area and thank them on behalf of all of us, and then the choir would stand and sing a short thank you song: "Thank you for the food so great, thank you, cooks, you really rate. Our hearty meal we all admire, thank you from the St. Olaf Choir". Was it cheesy? Absolutely. But our hosts always found it funny, and we loved this tradition.

So, one of my most memorable meals was the last time I sang the Thank You Song. We were in Des Moines, Iowa, and had been served a church potluck of pasta, Ceasar salad, and a pretty extensive variety of cookies and bars in typical Midwestern fashion. But when we rose to thank our hosts, I was taken aback by how emotional I felt singing this for the last time. In that 30 second song are three years' worth of memories and experiences with people who had become my family. I felt like I was not just saying thank you to our hosts, but that I was giving thanks for three years of friendship, support, and experiences that greatly shaped me as a person.  For me, that meal is memorable because it evokes pure gratitude.