Alone and unable to cook for Thanksgiving? This veteran group has you covered

Midge Thomas carried the paper bag up the stairs, across the porch and knocked on the door.

The sack sagged a little cooked turkey and mashed potatoes inside. However, no one does answered demand food. Thomas rang the bell, waited a moment, then found another door to knock on. Still nothing.

He stepped back and weighed his options.

The meal in Thomas’ bag was one of hundreds prepared this week by volunteers at the Fallbrook branch of Veterans of Foreign Wars, a national nonprofit organization. VFWs serve as gathering places and can provide a variety of services to people who served in conflicts overseas.

This was among several hosting parties in San Diego County, but its takeaways extended the premium. You didn’t even have to be a veteran to get it.

Men and women had been cooking for days when the sun rose on Thanksgiving Day. There was enough food for 300 meals. Although some was eaten in the dining room, more than half was intended to be driven around town.

“Hot pan!” a woman yelled as she stepped out of the kitchen at the Fallbrook VFW. He was followed by James Duncan, a Marine veteran and head of the organization.

Duncan stopped at a man with tattoos on both arms. “Do you want to make some cranberries?”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

Duncan turned to the man in the camouflage hoodie and asked if he could supervise the sauce.

“I’ll do what you want me to do.”

Post 1924 is located just off a residential street in North County. There is a dining room, bar, covered patio and smoke room, which together contain enough memorabilia to give a fairly comprehensive history of the US military. A framed Los Angeles Times cover from the 1940s (“Japan Signs Surrender”) hangs near handwritten notes sent by troops in Afghanistan (“Thanks for the cookies”).

One small table sat empty on the stage. The chain prevented anyone from sitting on the chair. On top of the tablecloth was a poster that said “POW MIA”.

Duncan’s red T-shirt was emblazoned with a similar note: On the back were the names of servicemen killed in the 2021 airport bombing in Kabul, Afghanistan.

He watched as the volunteers loaded the containers. The bags are wrinkled. Styrofoam squeaked.

Thomas, daughter of a Navy veteran and director of the VFW Auxiliary, grabbed seven bags and walked to the parking lot. He put the meals in the Cadillac SUV and climbed into the driver’s seat.

“For an old lady,” she said panting, “that’s a lot of exercise.” (Thomas is 73.) Then he balanced the list of home addresses on his lap, dialed the first one, and hit the road.

The RV park he was headed to was only a few miles away. Thomas slowed as he approached the entrance. This place was a maze.

Within minutes he was knocking on doors. Many of the respondents were alone. One woman reported that she recently had reconstructive leg surgery. Another said her husband was recovering from a stroke. A third noted that this was his first Thanksgiving without cooking a turkey in 55 years.

“Be careful,” Thomas told one recipient as the bag changed hands. “It’s leaking from the bottom.”

Acorns popped under his tires as he drove from house to house. Sometimes he got stuck and had to double back. “We need breadcrumbs to find our way out of here.”

A home with no one to answer sat in a cul-de-sac. Thomas waited a moment. Then he placed the bag on the porch.

His next delivery was across the street. That door was answered by a white-haired man and woman, and as they chatted, Thomas inquired if the couple knew of his neighbor’s whereabouts. They didn’t think anyone was home.

Thomas retrieved the bag from the porch and left it for the couple to keep. But right after saying goodbye, Thomas rounded the corner only to see that the Honda Accord had since pulled up in front of a once empty house. A man in a flannel shirt now sat in front.

“You’re back!” Thomas said. “I just gave your food to the neighbor.”

“Thank you very much,” the man said when he realized who Thomas was. “Oh my God, can I write you a check?”

“If you want to make a donation, it’s always good for our veterans,” Thomas said.

The man found a checkbook and wrote “$20”. Then he announced without being asked who he had supported in the presidential election. Thomas, who happened to be a fan of the other candidate, thought of several things to say, decided to pass them all and chose the wave instead.

Back in the car, Thomas checked her delivery list. She had to take the check to the VFW, and she still had to make a broccoli and cheese casserole. own family.

As he backed into his SUV, the man on the porch raised his hand in farewell.