THANKSGIVING BLESSINGS

I am remembering a Thanksgiving morning 31 years ago. My then-husband and I had just moved into a new-to-us house.  We had yet to tear up the orange shag carpet in the living room or replace the orange countertops in the kitchen.  Ditto the bordello-red paint on the downstairs-bathroom walls. The yellow plaid wallpaper in the kitchen remained in place, as did the yellow walls with orange trim in one bedroom and the chartreuse walls with royal blue trim in another. We will not speak of the olive drab walls and trim in the master bedroom. To say that the house needed "refreshing" would be an understatement.

 

We had been in the house for only two or three weeks.  We would, nonetheless, host Thanksgiving dinner, shag rug be damned.  In those days, when our daughters were young and we had little nearby family, we would often have twenty-plus people for dinner.  Orphans, mostly, by which I mean friends whose families, like ours, lived far away.  

 

In the years since that long-ago Thanksgiving, my then-husband and I divorced, and my daughters grew up and moved out, The house is now 64-years-old and I am older still. There will, however, be no shortage of guests for dinner tomorrow.  My husband of twenty years and I will host my daughters and two of his sons, along with their spouses.  There will be six grandchildren, and, oh yes, two ex-spouses, his and mine.  They are, after all, the people with whom we raised our children. They are family and belong at the Thanksgiving table.  

 

The shag carpet is long since gone, as are the other decorating horrors. My daughters will prepare the feast, with contributions from other family members.  The four grandchildren aged three and under will provide joyful chaos, while the two older grandchildren will bring a welcome touch of sanity.  

 

I don't know about you, but Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  I don’t view the holiday as a re-creation of the first uneasy coming together of settlers and natives. For me, it is simply a celebration of gratitude, a time to gather with family and/or friends to share a meal and appreciate one another. 

 

And I love that there are no gifts involved.

 

Look, it has been a tough year politically, but I'm not going to let that stop me from finding things to be grateful for.  Here is a partial list of my current gratitudes:

 

Family

Friends

Community

A warm house and hot, running water

A functioning body and brain

Books

My garden and my writing projects

Hope, however guarded

 

(Would it be frivolous to add chocolate?)

 

I hope you all have much to be grateful for.  And I hope we can find ways in the coming year to assist those who are lacking some or all of what I have listed above.

 

Namaste and Thanksgiving blessings.

 

                                                   Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

STILL SLIDING AND GLIDING: Some Thoughts on My Recent Birthday

 

Sometimes I forget how old I am. 

 

I don’t mean that I can’t remember the number.  It’s just that sometimes I will be with 40- or 50-somethings and will think for a moment that I am one of them. And then I will find myself confronted by a mirror.  

 

My memory is quickly restored. 

 

Here’s the thing. Although I turned 75 last week, my psychic age, as I have written before, is 45 or 50.  You can see where the confusion comes in.

 

There was a moment, though, last week when I was starkly confronted by my age.  My husband and I were preparing for a trip to Hawaii to celebrate my birthday.  The day before the trip, I found myself uncommonly tired while packing.  The travel day was long, and on our first full day in paradise, I was horrified to find myself too exhausted to do much of anything.  I was beside myself.  It seemed that upon turning 75, I was falling off a cliff straight into decrepitude.  Were my traveling days over?  

 

Happily, the next day I woke up with a cold.  Happily?  Well, it wasn’t that I wanted to be sick; it was just that I was delighted to realize I wasn’t on the doorstep of assisted living.  Soon, the blessed sun dried up my cold, and I was back to feeling like myself again.

 

So, I am pleased to report that I am still feeling pretty good.  Can I make this time last?  Is there an elder equivalent to the teenage years, I wonder?  A last fling before the doddering years?  I intend to find out. 

 

Still, there is no doubt that time is passing quickly.  Five minutes ago, I wrote a post about turning 70, and now I find that I have, improbably, turned 75.  In that earlier post, I quoted from James Taylor’s song, The Secret ‘O Life.  Please indulge me while a re-share a few of the lyrics:

 

       The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time

       Any fool can do it

       There ain’t nothing to it

       Nobody knows how we got to

       The top of the hill

       But since we’re on our way down

       We might as well enjoy the ride

 

.  . .

 

       Isn’t it a lovely ride?

       Sliding down

       Gliding down

       Try not to try too hard

       It’s just a lovely ride

 

. . .

 

Everything I feel about turning 75 (along with the full lyrics to the song) was included in my post about turning 70. Things haven't changed much. I may be on the downward side of the hill, but as was the case five years ago, my life is rich and full. In fact, it is fuller, as I have gained four grandchildren in the intervening years. They are helping me with my sliding and gliding skills, and keeping me young, even as they wear me out. They certainly know how to put everything into the ride.  

 

And so may we all, regardless of age, and in spite of the many challenges along the way, enjoy the ride.  And may we lend a hand to those who are finding the ride bumpy and rough. 

What else is there for it?

                                    photo by Getty Images