Some of the readers of this paper will be among those who have over-indulged, and are now emerging from a Thanksgiving food coma. I can remember my son Chris pulling at my arm as I lolled on the after-dinner couch, telling me to “Fight it! Fight L-Tryptophan!” Some others of us will emerging from sports comas, having spent Thanksgiving day watching Bears and Lions — oh my — and Cowboys riding Eagles and Seahawks swooping over 49ers. And some of us will be sleepily watching parades and dog shows, Charlie Brown and Lady Gaga, and many marathons, from “Buffy” to “Bones.” But wait! There’s more!
I’ve written before about holidays having been created for and designed by retailers for the purpose of sales. On the “official day of thanks,” some of us will have already survived the lines leading to the “Black Friday” deals that followed the previous week’s “Pre-Black Friday” deals. The pump has been primed; the gusher is about to come in and we are going to fill our buckets with retail offerings. When we review the days behind us, we find anger and angst, thickets and bramble, disease and death, but, despite that despair, we will shop for the future.
For many in this country, “giving thanks” is a way to praise a “higher being” for gifts that have been conferred. For some others among us — ME! Pick me! — “giving thanks” has not meant a higher praise. My list of things for which to be thankful would differ from the readers, should I choose to make and publish that list. Listing and numbering are old activities made new by an urgent world with a short attention span and a need to create “memes.” We have 10 reasons to own a cat/dog, and number 5 “blew my mind!” There are 25 “life hacks” that your grandmother never knew. The “Top 10 Best/Worst of Everything.” And David Letterman’s “Top Ten,” his comedic and irritated response to People Magazine’s own “Top Ten” lists.
I went to the grocery store, recently, and purchased four things. I watched the man in line ahead of me as he attended to his purchases. He left with the purchases bagged by the clerk. The checker then rang up my four food choices and placed them in the reusable bag I had brought to the store. At home, I unpacked five things. I checked my receipt and took the 5th thing back to the store. On the way, I imagined the reception that I might receive when I returned the meat: would it be welcoming, or questioning? I exited my car at the same time as the man who had preceded me in the checkout line. The man stopped when I hailed him and took the package I offered. He said “thanks,” without affect or emotion, and turned back to his car.
Back home again, I wondered what I had expected of the man: a “hallelujah chorus” of thanks? After all, I had not paused to consider what I should do with the unintentional gift, and immediately proceeded to do what I believed was the right thing. Then I remembered a dictum that I have always tried to inculcate in my children: make your heart happy. I want them to do the right thing because it is the right thing; the reward is the “thanks” of a happy heart.
We do not need an official day, but we have one, and I’m willing to bet that most of us need do no more than to look to the left or right, straight ahead or behind us to find some reason to say “thanks.”