Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Suspicious Thankfulness

The holidays used to be a mountain of work as I oversaw the planning for hundreds of poor, sick and hurting people to find something worth giving thanks for.

We pulled off monumental moments of giving which was gratifying but ... when all was said and done they were still poor, sick and hurting after everyone else went home.

I'm not cynical.

For a little while, we made things better and who knows how much worse it could have been had we not mobilized so much?

Thanksgiving, for example, meant making lots of public appearances, giving every single person I encountered something of me then rushing home for our celebration.

It meant my family got my leftovers.

I was toast and had little to give my own kids.

So these days, I'm suspicious about the holidays.

They can leave scars.

Our one year old daughter Che and I are standing on the Pier watching a pod of Dolphins smile as they glide through the calm Ocean as we listen to a fellow Beach Bum explain, "So you better enjoy this Thanksgiving because when I was at Dragon Con, dressed as Yoda, a group of Christians got booed and when I was at the Bar between a Storm Trooper and Alliance Lieutenant, God told me he's had enough. There's this last Thanksgiving and those who take advantage of it will be spared but those who don't are gonna burn."

Che's chasing birds on the Pier and doesn't seem concerned.

When living on an island, it's best to nod a lot and not say much.

"Cool," I tell him.

Throwing Che in the stroller I crank up Alice Cooper as we make our way home to meet Sarah for lunch.

Barefoot wearing black running shorts and a "Club Orient" tee shirt, we listen to the Sea sloppily kiss the shore as I tell her about the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

"I've never really cared about it but, I don't know, this year's different. I'm looking forward to it being on in the morning as wait on a fabulous feast at Mary and Monty's."

Che laughs then sings before sticking a sucker covered in broken Cheese-its in her mouth.

"I have serious doubts this is the last Thanksgiving," I explain as we turn onto our street, "but let's treat it like it is."

Honestly speaking, there's more to be thankful for than the shitty stuff that happened. There was a lot of shitty stuff but ... well here we are ... living in spite of it ... loving ... laughing ... singing ... dreaming ... daring ... and enjoying things in spite of ourselves.

So, as someone wrote and tossed in the Bar Church bucket one Sunday, ... "Thank you Lord for thinking 'bout me. I'm alive and doing fine."

I'm thankful you are too.

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