Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is upon us.

I usually crush this holiday. Just sayin’.

It’s not that hard. Wife, children, grandchildren...all swell. I’m proud of every one of them and give thanks on a regular basis for having them. I’ve spent my life living where I wanted to live and doing what I wanted to do and managed to make enough money to get by.

I’m a white male boomer, raised by two smart parents in a houseful of books. It wasn’t a fancy house, but outside its walls a farm with woods and a creek close enough for ill-advised adventuring constantly called me. Beyond the farm was a community that provided a decent amount of support and acceptance, along with role models whose memory still resonates. It’s like I won the lottery long before I bought a ticket. Being thankful should be my default. And I try. My standard greeting when someone asks how things are going is, “It’s a great day to be alive.” Some days that aren’t quite as sparkly I’ll say, “Well, any day above dirt is a good one.” Only on rare occasions will I say, “Some days are better than others.” I’m not living in a refugee camp or battling cancer, so that’s about as dark as I care to go.

There’s more to be thankful about. I like my extended family, and I can’t think of any group of people I’d rather spend a day with. Thanksgiving is a relaxing holiday, without the pressure of Christmas or Valentine’s Day and this year we’re not even cooking.

Even the timing of the holiday is good. In thirty years of farming, there were only a couple of times when I wasn’t done with harvest and tillage by Thanksgiving - an accomplishment that always made me grateful.

On the other hand, I’m not an idiot. There’s a lot to worry about in this world. Your list might be different than mine, but I bet we all have a substantial list of things that are deeply concerning. Just this week I found out about a good friend’s newly discovered cancer, and other people I cherish are confronting dire circumstances. There’s never a day where I’m not faced with the “ills that flesh is heir to.”

Some days it’s every hour.

While writing this I rubbed my poor bald head and hit a lump sustained from sudden contact with something steel and pointed. Along with that bump, a few scaly spots from my yearly trip to the dermatologist to get suspicious spots frozen off have sprouted. When I think that for thirty years seed and feed companies were thrusting free hats at me, I can’t believe I didn’t wear them more. Of course, considering I’m nearly 71 years of age and considering what I’ve spent my life doing, to get this far with just a few bumps and brown spots means I’m one of the lucky ones.

You know, I’m worried every day of my life. We live with so much trouble, strife, and uncertainty. But a worthwhile thought is that Abraham Lincoln declared Thanksgiving a holiday in 1863, and President Roosevelt made it a national holiday in 1941. History shows that those were pretty tenses times as well. Maybe Thanksgiving isn’t at all about celebrating because things are great, maybe it’s about finding joy when it can be hard to see.

Copyright 2025 Brent Olson