On Thanksgiving

Thoughts on What We Have To Be Thankful For

When In Doubt, Thank Your Mom

It’s Thanksgiving Day. But I’ve been listening to so much Christmas music lately, I was nearly caught unawares. Actually, I’m listening to Christmas music now — Michael Praetorius’ “Es Ist Ein Ros Entsprungen.” And today, I’m thankful he knew how to so expertly create melody and harmony.

Being thankful is somewhat of a natural default for me. You’d think I thank people too much. “Thank you for the dinner. It was delicious. Thank you for the conversation, too, and, oh, thank you for the dinner. Did I meet my quota of four thank-you’s for the last block of ten minutes? I didn’t? Thank you for keeping track for me.”

There’s one thing I haven’t always been thankful for, something much more basic: my life. It’s usually easy for me to be thankful for others’ contributions to my life — their friendship, time and money — but it hasn’t always been easy to recognize my own value. So today, I thank one woman and one man for a small, but valuable, contribution to humanity: me.

I hope you’ll thank whoever created you for their contribution to humanity; it’s no small matter. Time, eternity, humanity — life isn’t the same without you.

Thankful for Then, Thankful for Now

I’ve always held the belief that things happen just because they happen. Whether for a reason or not, time unfolds itself to reveal the result of our chosen path. And I’ve always regarded myself as a person who wouldn’t change a thing — a no regrets kind of person — but that’s not the truth, not really. I would do without some choices. I would act on getting help sooner. And I would accept myself more, something I’m still working to do.

But I’m thankful for the things that have happened in my life. I’m thankful for high school, when my Dream Machine crashed short of becoming a famous violinist; it led me to enjoy other kinds of music. I’m thankful for the jobless depression of my early twenties; it led me to join a community theater. And I’m thankful for a dead-end insurance job that nearly killed me; it eventually led me back to my Dream Machine.

And I’m thankful for where my Dream Machine would later take me.

Like to the hospital, which showed me a different, beautiful side of humanity. And to my psychiatrist, who gives me direction and clarity — and meds. And to my therapist, who helps me face my problems with strength and power.

Thankful for Your Dream Machine

I’m thankful for your Dream Machine, and all the other Dream Machines out there. Your Dream Machine may be very different from mine, and I’m thankful for that, too. Not everyone wants to be a playwright, movie maker and restaurateur, like I do. Some people’s Dream Machines take them to accounting firms, non-profits or construction companies. Other people’s Dream Machines shift course, run out of gas or break down. I’m thankful for those Dream Machines, too. The beauty of a Dream Machine is that it can always get going again. And the beauty of life is that each of our Dream Machines is uniquely ours. I’m thankful for that.

Thankful for Being Thankful

Sometimes Thanksgiving comes and I’m joyful. Sometimes it comes and I’m depressed. This year’s the former; next could be the latter. But I’m feeling mentally healthy, and I’m thankful that I can be thankful today.

You may not be feeling healthy or thankful. That’s alright. I’ll be thankful on your behalf:

This year, I’m thankful for your Dream Machine. And I’m thankful to whoever made you; their contribution to humanity may be small in size, but it’s precious in value: you.