They beheld God and they ate and drank.

- The Book called Exodus 

The best potlucks are the ones with the most variety. You can have a table full of braised artichoke pate, grilled Caribbean pineapple/shrimp and wild shitakes stuffed with lobster; but if you don't balance that with a bag of chips, a bowl of salsa and a bucket of chicken, it ain't no honest potluck. Likewise, a board spread with nothing but chips, pretzels, Velveeta and beenie-weenies might serve as hippie marijuana munchies. But call it a potluck? No way.

The beauty of potlucks is found in the diversity of the food. And the reason for the diversity of the food is the diversity of the people who bring the food. Some folks enjoy spending hours preparing a beautiful platter of gourmet cuisine. Others run by a Quik-Stop on their way to the potluck and grab whatever they can get for the $7.87 they have in their wallet. But both are essential for a kick-ass potluck. Both are necessary if the purpose of a potluck is to be served.

And what is the purpose of a potluck? It's sharing. All about sharing. Sharing whatever shows up. Sharing your food, sharing others' food, sharing time around the table oohing and ahhing over the grilled eggplant and lamb-on-pita bread while spooning chili con queso over your plate of Doritos. At an honest potluck, whatever you put on the table is just right.

Sooner or later, we may begin to realize that, finally, the only way we humans will survive in this world, is if we realize that it's all a potluck. Every day. Every moment. And our gig is to share what we have while we enjoy what others bring to the table. Whatever shows up.  Which is what Thanksgiving is all about.

Uh-Oh. Are the fried pork rinds already gone?