Background: I work on Thanksgiving every year. The main responsibility is to cover any breaking news, but there’s usually a typical “feel-good” Turkey Day assignment. Now, I make sure that assignment involves the Church of Epiphany’s annual fleet of volunteers delivering what’s now over 1,000 meals throughout our area.
I reported and wrote this story in the span of two hours. It’s one of those classic journalism examples of how sometimes, if you just show up, you’ll find a story you never expected.
BRICK — Every year, the Tivenan family finds another Thanksgiving “legend.”
There was the time they delivered a meal to a woman so thankful she demanded they pray and sing with her. Another time, they were kicked out of an apartment by a woman worried she was missing the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
A few years ago, Charley Tivenan knocked on a door for a few minutes, waiting around without a response. It wasn’t until a neighbor peeked into the hallway that Tivenan realized he was knocking on the door of a dead man.
Tivenan offered the bag full of turkey, gravy, stuffing and green beans to the neighbor, who graciously accepted it.
“We were wondering on the way back whether the guy was actually dead or he was out having a cigarette and she got his meal,” he laughed, recounting a story he’s told a dozen times before.
For the Tivenan family, delivering free meals for the Church of Epiphany’s annual Thanksgiving Feast is as much a tradition as turkey, football or falling asleep on the couch. For as long as any of his kids can remember, Thanksgiving Day has always started with a trip to public housing, senior communities or anyone else signs up with the church.
It’s a way for the kids – this year, he was joined by Liam, 24, and Michala, 22 — to appreciate both what they have and what others are missing.
“My kids know they’ve had a pretty good life,” Tivenan said. The family lives in a single-family home and the children have attended private schools and college.
“It’s nice to recognize and understand that they’re very fortunate, and to give back at least one day a year for people who aren’t as fortunate,” he said.
In its 17th year, the Church of Epiphany’s annual Thanksgiving Feast is a well-oiled machine.
While one group cooked and prepared the food, another piled it into silver trays and paper bags – passing onto another group, who carried it to drivers’ cars.
Over the course of a few hours, 80 volunteers delivered 865 meals on Thursday – with another 150 scheduled to attend the church's annual dinner, said Sue Hermida, who chairs the feast.
“We’re just trying to give back to the community,” Hermida said. “Everybody’s got a special meaning. They deliver to the same homes and forge a relationship with them.”
Tivenan has a specific request — more of a running gag — every time he picks a route: “Give me the worst possible route – horrible conditions, bad parking, gunshots, whatever it might be,” Tivenan asked an organizer.
Like a pair of Thanksgiving veterans, Liam and Michala immediately recognized the Eleanor Levovitz senior apartments in Lakewood when they were handed their delivery route. It’s a good one, they said: Fast elevators mean they can get up and down easily and a one-building complex means they won’t get lost.
The church volunteers are welcome sights at the complex. A handful of residents were already waiting in the lobby, shouting room numbers at anyone who walked in holding a paper bag.
At each of their five deliveries, the Tivenans offered quick, pleasant exchanges — no singing ladies or dead residents this time around.
“Maybe you’re this year’s anecdote,” Tivenan told a reporter following them to each delivery.
But a few times, residents not on Tivenan’s list would ask if there were any extras. One resident never saw the church’s sign-up sheet and another, who had signed up, was surprised when her granddaughter showed up for dinner.
So nearly an hour after they left, the Tivenans arrived back at the Church of Epiphany, just a few blocks away from their own dinner.
It would have to wait. Instead, they picked up another few bags of meals, packed the car up and drove back to Lakewood, writing their own Thanksgiving legend along the way.