Now More Than Ever . . . A Time To Give Thanks
This year, it feels like Thanksgiving came early
Originally, I was going to write a piece dissecting the election, maybe taking some well-deserved shots at those who mistakenly consider themselves “our betters.”
Then I thought . . . why? We won . . . and at least at this moment . . . I don’t feel like giving the extremist left the attention of a single brain-cell. For at least the next four years, America is safe from the desecrations of those who hate it, who wanted to change it into an authoritarian, Marxist “utopia.”
I know it’s not Thanksgiving yet, but it strikes me that maybe we should start celebrating it early.
DW
I have spent Thanksgiving on a white sand beach, steaks sizzling over an open fire and the reggae sounds of Bob Marley sailing on the breeze. The rum flowed and the friends laughed, sending up a woozy toast to our fortune when the dazzling fireball slipped silently into the steaming blue waters of the Gulf.
I have spent Thanksgiving with my family, a traditional turkey and football extravaganza complete with the sounds of Mom in the kitchen and Dad snoring in the Lazy Boy. Those days were slow and lazy, filled to the brim with the treasured scents of home and home cooking. The conversation is easy and the red jello is specked with bananas. The pace is familiar and the atmosphere warm.
I have spent Thanksgiving on the road, stopping into a highway diner for a hunk of pressed turkey loaf, canned gravy and conversation with a hard-dyed waitress attached to the end of a smoldering Marlboro. I have spent Thanksgiving with a brilliant labrador, a loving wolfhound, a singing malamute, a venerable samoyed and a dancing wonder mutt. These days have been all smiles and laughter despite - or maybe because of - a state of wandering poverty. I have spent Thanksgiving alone with a bottle of Wild Turkey, words spilling onto a screen as I record a migrant nostalgic thought. I have spent Thanksgiving in blizzards, in crowds, in love and insane.
Maybe those last two are synonymous, but you get the basic idea. I always remember my Thanksgivings. It is one of our better American holidays in that it is without great expectation. One does not stew over the purchase of an appropriate Thanksgiving gift. A body is not pressured to put on the big show that our commercially perverted holidays - like Christmas - seem to these days require.
If there is any stipulation regarding Thanksgiving, which I doubt, it lies simply in taking a moment to reflect upon the good things of the past year. Our successes seem brighter on this day. Our failures seem more distant. The only sense of competition is for the softest chair, longest nap, or the last piece of pecan pie.
I've tended, over the past decade or so, to spend Thanksgiving in an untraditional manner. Many think it mandatory to be surrounded by people on this particular Thursday in November. Such is fine if done of free will, however it is not the celebration I choose. I receive many invitations, some which tempt me sorely, however I generally prefer to be a unicycle rather than a fifth wheel. Some folks send invites because they care deeply, some ask me over because they are kind and decent to the bone, and I suspect a couple request my presence because they feel it socially/politically advantageous in the eyes of their neighbors to appear altruistic and benevolent.
No, I tend to celebrate solo, maybe roasting a bird for self and steaks for the boys. I may take a drive into the hills - weather permitting. I might take a stroll through the woods, listening for crashing critters and appreciating my good fortune as I relax on the “sittin’ rock” which juts out over my little stream. If the mood strikes, I will watch the gridiron behemoths engage in their metaphoric massacre. I will miss my family, and at some point I will remember that family is not defined solely by blood. I will smile.
I will be a lot of things, mostly happy, but I won't be isolated in heart or mind. The best part about choosing a somewhat hermitish path is that you come to realize that being by yourself is far different from being alone.
This year is different, and perhaps provides all the more reason to give thanks for that which we have been given. We have seen death and war. We have looked evil in the eye, and thanks to leaders possessing conscience and conviction, have succeeded in the first phase of making this world a better place. Such a goal, we should recall, does not end with the ousting of one totalitarian regime. Freedom comes with a price. Our recently elected leader understands that. Our soon-to-be former one did not.
I look at the state of the world and am convinced that, though we occasionally stumble, we never fall. I look at my own life, and though these past few years have been personally odd and stressful at times, realize I am blessed. Despite my insatiable need to fiddle with things unbroken, life is good. I’ve no complaints.
I'll remember this Thanksgiving in the same way I remember all the others, not because of infinite feasts or a TV parade complete with the insipid babblings of pseudo-journalists and an inflated woodpecker, but because I consider myself damned lucky to live in a country that - after years of stagnation and darkness - seems to once again comprehend the difference between right and wrong. We have, to a large degree, regained a modicum of common sense.
I live in place I adore with creatures whom I love more than life itself. I am doing that which makes me happiest, surrounded by the kind thoughts of friends who reside always within my soul.
If there was ever a year to give thanks . . . this is it.
Beautiful! Thanks!