Well, well, well…if you know me from Facebook you know I love my Thursday Thoughts AND my Thanksgiving gratitude. How fortuitous, how serendipitous, how positively awesomely curious that in my first full rotating-day-but-still-weekly writing cycle, I’m up on Thursday AND it’s Thanksgiving. I could not have planned this any better and even if I had I’m sure I would have screwed something up along the way.
I know many of us are in the same spot—not surrounded by (as many of) the people we love, no grand-scale active and physical manifestation of love and gratitude. Which sucks.
And that’s ok.
Of course I’d rather be at Chrissy & Peter’s. Of course I would. Theirs is the house where my heart re-discovered Thanksgiving. They are two of the roughly two dozen people who made it so. Hands down I’d rather be with the Lewises and the Donovans and the Martins and assorted Conroys today. No question. (No offense, Mom. I wish you were able to be in FL with Kristin (my sister) and her family. And I think you do too.)
The year my dad died was the year Thanksgiving changed for me. For as long as I can remember, Thanksgiving was the three of us (mom, dad, and I) repping for the family, usually for dinner at my aunt and uncle’s. And it was always amazing. Then in 2014, just shy of three month after dad’s early departure from this life (he was 73—and it was way too soon), Thanksgiving dinner was just…sad.
Until it wasn’t. Until I found myself in a kitchen crowded with cousins and in-laws and kids, the new family I got thanks to Kerri. Thanksgiving changed back to happy. Thanksgiving was Thanksgiving again, broccoli casserole and the inevitable first-timer skepticism about its deliciousness and all (it’s my “signature” Thanksgiving dish—trust it).
So yes, I wish we could be there today. I even wish I could have “run” the Dreamcatcher Classic and gone to Johnny Kono’s for too many post-“race” beers at 8am. I wish for a lot of things but wishes never come true (when we think they do they’re mere coincidences) and what is is…so I have two choices: 1) spend the day wishing or 2) spend the day being.
I’m going with the latter.
Anyway, as I have mentioned before, I write down the high point of every day as a way of reminding myself that good things happen all the time…and I am always grateful for the obvious (knock wood)—good health, good job, solid roof over my head, amazing family, great friends, etc. I fully realize that my problems can be filed under “first-world problems,” and that they are more petty annoyances than actual problems. And I’m grateful for that. I realize that the daily things are super-surface…more outwardly focused than inward. Things that happen more than things that I feel deeply. Not to minimize them, but a good workout or a great new recipe, for example, might be high points but it certainly aren’t pure expressions of gratitude either. Anyway, some of my gratitude goes way back and deep, some is a bit material, some is a little bit rooted in current circumstances—and all of it is genuine.
This year I looked beyond the everyday things that keep me going…beyond the “basics” that I described above (e.g., food, shelter, love), forcing myself to reflect and be really specific about the things that are at the root of my gratitude, and why they matter to me. I realize that life is a confluence of coincidences and choices, of the random and the deliberate, ebbing and flowing on the regular, completely outside of my control. I also see that these infinite combinations of possibility are framed by some big story arcs…and that’s what I’m focusing on this year…the story arcs, the foundation, the strength…the things that simultaneously anchor me and give me flight…those are the things I can’t stop focusing on these days. They are the things I’d have a hard time living without.
Here we are on Thanksgiving Thursday, the dysfunctional 2020 edition, and here are my thoughts, showcasing who and what I am most grateful for:
1) My parents, and the sacrifices they made so that my sisters and I could have a great life, specifically for the sacrifices they made so that we could get a higher education. I can’t imagine how they did it, without complaining, without us seeing how hard they were working, without us feeling like we owed them, etc. etc. etc.—and while it instilled in me the value of hard work and the importance of family, it also presented me with an opportunity to learn, an opportunity that I continue to appreciate, more and more as I get older. My commitment to critical thinking with the common good as north star is what saves my sanity over and over and over again—and in these divisive times of inflammatory rhetoric, the way my brain is wired gives me a built-in coping mechanism. While I wasn’t taught critical thinking skills per se, they were a necessary byproduct of the work I needed to do to get my diploma, and goddamn good thing that’s the case. Without my parents’ selflessness, I am sure I wouldn’t be here today…well I probably would be here but I certainly wouldn’t be the same person. So I’m profoundly grateful for the sacrifices they made to give me the tools I need to understand and enjoy the journey on a sometimes (very) bumpy road. As an aside, but a relevant one, it’s worth noting the fact that my mom is still making sacrifices for me. Last week I made a reference to silver linings and posed the rhetorical question “who has the wherewithal to polish silver (these days)?” The very next day my mom came for dinner, the weekly Post-Tai Chi Thursday Special (yes she started tai chi this year—so proud of her!) and she walked into the house carrying a tote bag and wearing a shit-eating grin. Apparently earlier in the day when she was in the eaves looking for who-knows-what, she discovered some of my old possessions, including an award I didn’t remember winning in college that was commemorated with a small silver dish—which my mom spent the day cleaning (using three types of tarnish-removing product) so that I could put it on my new home-office desk. So that’s who has the wherewithal to polish silver these days—a devoted mom who will do anything for her kids. You would have thought she was giving me a million dollars she was so excited. In reality she gave me so much more.
2) Kerri Sweeney, for changing the trajectory of my happiness…and for everything else that comes with that. The sky is the limit—thanks for being my jetpack. ‘Nuff said.
3) Friendships that don’t require intense focus or handholding, that have withstood the test of time and all the associated challenges (differences, distances, etc. etc. etc.), and also can withstand the pressure of being juggled through at least two text message groups, direct text, IG /FB messages, and email…often on the same day. Yet you care enough and know enough about each other to check in personally when someone’s meme-sharing game is off or if they go radio silent. That’s a very special kind of friend love.
4) Unconditional love. What time has taught me is that unconditional love actually may come with some temporary and provisional conditions, and that’s ok. Stay open to receiving whatever from your people—sometimes they know better, so trust them.
5) The people who I am sad about not seeing today, from my own immediate family (special shout-out to my two awesome sisters, 2 like brothers brothers-in-law, and my 2 nephews and 3 nieces who are amazing humans and give me hope for the future) to my extended family to my related-only-by-love family, I am grateful to have so many people to be missing. And that’s just the alive people. I’m also grateful for the memories of those who are no longer physically of this world—they will always be important pieces of me. Specifically worth noting are my dad, Springy (my grandmother on my mom’s side), and Peter (a friend taken from us too soon, at 28, in November of 1997). They hit extra hard, always will.
6) My gratitude. This is a weird one, being grateful for one’s gratitude. I guess it’s how I look at all the blessings I have, and it’s how I process and internalize the knowledge of how good I have it, and that others aren’t so lucky. I am aware of my privilege—and know I don’t deserve it. Just as those less fortunate and those suffering don’t deserve that. We’re all the same and interchangeable…and we’re all different and in fixed places. That’s the simplicity and complexity of this thing called life. There’s no accounting for my good fortune, and my life’s work is to nurture and protect it and to share the proverbial (!) wealth to the extent that I can. As Springy used to say “we’re rich in love” and truer words have never been spoken.
Last Friday night, it was warm out (for November), and I was sitting out back under the patio heater…drinking a cold beer, listening to good tunes. These Are Days by 10,000 Maniacs came up on the rotation, and as I listened, I heard and thought and felt the lyrics…it’s true that I am blessed and lucky. It’s true. I’m touched by something. And I just sat there by myself for a while, thinking and listening and looking up at the crescent moon and smiling. I’m profoundly grateful for moments like these. (And materially speaking I’m grateful we got a patio heater last year when it was practical but not required and thus not a pawn in a complex global supply and demand game.)
Here are two good songs (I know, I know, country…I know…but they have the perfect sappy lyrics!) to cue up and crank up today:
If you’re reading this, know how grateful I am for that, and for you.
Gotta fly. We’re having my mom and Kerri’s aunt for dinner and we’re going big. Need to go peel some potatoes. And make that broccoli casserole. (Yes, it has Velveeta cheese in it—BOOM!)
Happy Thanksgiving.
P.S. This one’s a bonus…because I think Peter would love it.
Thanks so much for your Thursday Thoughts and Thanksgiving Gratitude!! I love reading all your posts, your writing is amazing and such a gift! Thank you for sharing! Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family 🍻
Good brain. Good heart. Grateful you are in this world.