The men and women in the Armed Forces, that's what I always

Guy Fieri, in his heartfelt words—“The men and women in the Armed Forces, that's what I always think about and what I teach my kids about. We're getting ready to sit down at the table and have Thanksgiving, and there's people that are not with their families.”—offers us a profound reminder. He points beyond the feast, beyond the laughter and the warmth of kin, to the sacrifice of those who stand far from home. His teaching is simple, yet powerful: while we enjoy abundance, others endure absence; while we embrace family, others guard the nation in silence.

The origin of this reflection lies in the enduring connection between Thanksgiving and the recognition of those who serve. Since the days of the Revolution, when soldiers at Valley Forge endured bitter cold while their families feasted in warmth, the contrast has been known. It has been carried through the Civil War, through two World Wars, through Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan. The table of plenty has always stood in shadow of the battlefield. Fieri, a man of food and fellowship, directs us to remember that the feast is not whole unless it contains gratitude for those who cannot partake.

History bears witness to this truth. In 1943, during World War II, the Red Cross and military chaplains worked tirelessly to bring soldiers overseas a semblance of Thanksgiving—a tin of turkey, a slice of pie, a letter from home. For many, it was a fragile comfort, yet even in such meager meals, the spirit of gratitude lived. Back home, families set an empty chair at the table, a silent sign that part of the family was absent but never forgotten. This practice is echoed in Fieri’s words, teaching his children to see beyond their own fullness to the emptiness others endure.

This wisdom is not confined to America. Across time and cultures, feasts have been tempered by remembrance. In ancient Sparta, warriors missed harvest festivals while guarding their city. In medieval Europe, knights stood watch at borders while their families celebrated holy days. The rhythm is eternal: the many rejoice because the few endure hardship. To forget those few is to dishonor the price of peace.

The deeper meaning in Fieri’s reflection lies not only in gratitude but also in teaching. He speaks not just for himself, but for what he imparts to his children. This is the duty of every generation: to pass down remembrance, to plant within the young the understanding that freedom and safety are not self-sustaining, but protected by unseen hands. When children learn this truth, their hearts are guarded against selfishness, and their gratitude grows beyond the bounds of the table.

The lesson is clear: when you sit at your own table of abundance, do not let the feast blind you. Pause. Speak aloud your thanks for those who cannot be present. Tell your children, as Fieri does, of the soldiers who sleep in deserts and jungles, of sailors on the seas, of pilots in the skies, of medics in tents far from home. Let the food be flavored with reverence, and let the laughter be softened by remembrance.

Practical wisdom flows from this: write letters to soldiers abroad, donate meals to military families, set aside a portion of your abundance for those in need. Keep alive the ritual of the empty chair, a symbol that absence does not mean forgetfulness. And above all, live in such a way that your freedom is worthy of the sacrifices made on your behalf.

Thus, Guy Fieri’s simple words become timeless teaching. Thanksgiving is not only about what we have, but also about whom we remember. The men and women in the Armed Forces remind us that gratitude is not passive—it must be active, spoken, and lived. Carry this truth to your children and their children, so that the feast of remembrance will never end, and those who serve will never be forgotten.