Thanksgiving rolls around, and honestly, my mind usually jumps straight to the turkey coma and maybe pie for breakfast. But this year feels different. That warm, fuzzy feeling of gratitude? I have been thinking hard about how to actually do something with it, you know? Beyond just feeling thankful. While my family piles plates high, it hits me: countless folks right here in our community miss out on one of life’s simplest, most powerful gifts. Books. Donating books during Thanksgiving just clicks. We share a literal feast, so why not share the feast of stories and ideas books offer? The timing? Honestly, it could not be better. Schools scramble for winter break reads, libraries look a bit thin after the fall rush, and community groups are deep in holiday drive planning. It all lines up. Last Thanksgiving, I finally tackled the black hole known as my childhood bedroom closet. Buried under ancient prom dresses and questionable band tees? Boxes of books I had completely forgotten existed. Picture books, dog-eared paperbacks, that one fantasy trilogy I read three times. Dusty, sure, but still full of magic. Instead of shoving them back into oblivion, I started poking around online.

 Where could these actually go? Discover how donating books this Thanksgiving can spark joy and change lives, which kept me going as I dug deeper. What I found surprised me. The need? Way bigger than I ever imagined. Think about those elementary schools, especially in neighborhoods that get overlooked. Their libraries? Sometimes stocked with books older than I am. I have heard teachers whisper about spending their own paychecks just to get fresh stories for their classroom shelves because the budget vanished by October. When you donate quality children’s books, you are not just clearing space. You are handing over keys to new worlds. You might just ignite that one kid who becomes a lifelong reader because of your old copy of Charlotte’s Web. And libraries! Do not get me wrong, they are amazing, but their budgets stretch only so far. My local branch has a wish list longer than my grocery receipt. Maybe they need vibrant new picture books, maybe they crave more young adult fiction for teens, or perhaps it is practical stuff for adults learning new skills. Donate books they actually want, and you help them build something special beyond the basics. Community organizations are another fantastic spot.

Okay, real talk: not every book belongs in the donation box. That moldy encyclopedia from 1972? Probably not. Water-stained romance novel missing half its pages? Nope. We need to be thoughtful. Aim for books in decent shape covers attached, pages mostly there. For kids’ books, sturdiness is key! Educational stuff? Try to keep it within the last five years or so; science moves fast. Fiction can be older, but maybe skip anything with views that feel painfully out of step now. You want your donation to be welcomed, not awkward. The golden rule? Call first. Seriously. Before you lug heavy boxes anywhere, pick up the phone. Schools might have rules against religious content. Libraries often say no thanks to old textbooks or reference sets. That quick chat ensures your carefully chosen books find a good home and actually get used. It saves everyone time and hassle. You know what surprised me the most? How good it felt to finally let those books go. I used to be the kind of person who held onto everything just in case. But watching those boxes leave my house? Freeing. It was like passing the torch, trusting that someone else would get the same joy, comfort, or even just a few hours of escape from those pages. And here’s the thing: books take up space, both physically and mentally. Clearing them out made room not just on my shelves, but in my head, too. I dropped off my donations at a local literacy nonprofit, and the coordinator told me something that stuck with me: Books are one of the few things you can give that create intimacy between strangers. Think about it when you donate a book, you’re sharing more than paper and ink. You’re passing along underlined passages, dog-eared pages, maybe even a forgotten grocery list tucked inside.

Someone else will hold what you held, read what moved you, and build their own memories around it. It’s weirdly personal, in the best way. For kids, especially, books can be a lifeline. I’ll never forget volunteering at a shelter years ago and seeing a little girl light up when she found a worn copy of Matilda. She’s like me, she whispered. That moment hit me hard because books don’t just entertain or educate. They make readers feel seen. When you donate, you’re not just giving stories; you’re giving someone the chance to find themselves in those pages. And in a world where so many feel invisible, that’s everything. This is the part that gets me. The beauty of donating books is how far that ripple travels. That thriller you could not put down? It might hook a library patron who then devours the whole genre. The cookbook you passed to the community center? Maybe it inspires a family to try cooking together for the very first time. Those picture books? They get passed from little hand to little hand, each reading creating its own tiny memory. So this Thanksgiving, while the gravy flows and the family debates pie preferences, maybe add a new tradition. Gather everyone, raid those bookshelves gently!, and sort some donations together. It extends that spirit of giving far beyond the dinner table. Sharing stories, sharing knowledge  is not one of the most genuine ways to say “thank you” for the abundance we have? It feels right. What forgotten treasures might you share this year?

References

 American Library Association. (2023). Library funding and budget advocacy. https://www.ala.org/advocacy/library-funding

 United Way. (2023). Community literacy programs and book access initiatives. https://www.unitedway.org/our-impact/education

Scholastic. (2022). Kids and family reading report: Building readers in a digital world. https://www.scholastic.com/readingreport/