It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without the custom of reflecting upon one’s life and considering how it could be worse or as some people call it, “giving thanks.” In America, 2011, there is plenty for which I’m told I should be thankful. For starters, someone is paying me money to write this. That fact, alone, makes me the envy of a sizeable chunk of the population.
I also have my health. In other words, I’m not dying at a faster clip than a man my age ought to be –not detectably anyway. That said, I’m not doing much investigating. That’s the job of a trained professional, the services of whom are not within my reach, making me all the more thankful that I haven’t discovered anything new, with the exception of a few gray hairs.
The weather, I’m thankful for. Imagine a world without it. I can’t. I understand what is meant by “the weather,” however. It means mild temperatures and a dearth of precipitation, particularly of the frozen variety. Fine, I’m thankful I’m not freezing my extremities off.
I’m thankful for freedom. It’s nice to know that I can say almost anything or go almost anywhere. It’s great there is also a substantial amount of law and order, even if those laws are not always just and the order is heavily reliant on pepper spray and rubber bullets.
I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade (or worse, snow on it), but even as we are bombarded with messages of giving thanks for what we have, I encourage you not to lose sight of the fact that for most people on this planet, there is much still to be desired and will remain so even if we are grateful that we got ours, Jack.
A reader lambasted me (see following) for my editorial last week, in which I decried the stress that for many people –I had in mind, particularly, working class families – this holiday weekend provides in spades. She pointed out that as there are jobless people, I should be grateful I have a job; as there are homeless people, that I have a home; dead people, that I am alive.
Dear reader, trust me when I tell you I’m thrilled I’m not being tortured or maimed as I write this; ecstatic even. But this is my point: We’re constantly being told to consider how much worse it could be. Fine, it could be worse. No one’s arguing that, with the possible exception of maybe an unemployed homeless dude being water-boarded. Do we need a holiday to remind us to be grateful we’re not him? Can we not express dismay that life could and should be better?
She continues: “You could try to just make the event more pleasant by keeping a grateful attitude…jerk.” Are folks not allowed to cope in whatever way they find to be cathartic, and perhaps offer their voices to others who for fear of ostracism feel the compulsion to plaster on a smile so as not to kill your holiday buzz?
Look, anyone who’s spent 20 minutes with me knows I’m a barrel of monkeys, but lest this editorial page dissolve into a tranquility-inducing Prozac substitution, chock full of motivational poster clichés and pep, it’s vital to slaughter the occasional sacred cow (or turkey, as the case may be).
And as I’m writing this, a staff writer informs me that the aforementioned editorial was a bummer. I warned her she’s in for more of the same, to which she suggested I include a counterpoint to my dreariness. Fair enough, here goes: I’m thankful for my staff of columnists, reporters, interns, office mates, superiors and readers, without whom, this newspaper would cease to be as lively, enlightening, informative, entertaining and provocative. In short, it would simply cease to be. Happy or however-you-choose-to-feel Thanksgiving.
Follow Scott Bridges on Twitter @GScottEnt, @CulverNews. Email: editor@culvercitynews.org.
