We’re heading into the over indulgence season. Thanksgiving is the time of overindulgence in poultry and pumpkin. Halloween is the time of overindulgence in terror and treat. Christmas, the ultimate blowout, is the time of overindulgence in everything. Appropriately, these days of decadence are followed by Year’s Day, the time of reparation and resolution.
As Thanksgiving Day approaches, those of us with gardens that barely yielded spinach, peas, and lettuce, may feel the holiday has lost its impact. It is difficult to be thankful for the cloudiest, coldness, wettest summer most of us ever remember. It is difficult for me to express gratitude for wormy carrots and radishes, green tomatoes the size of my thumbnail, the smallest yield of zucchini ever (I previously thought it was not humanly possible to consume all the zucchini grown by a single plant), clematis that never climbed, honeysuckle and sweet pea that never attracted a single hummingbird (did anyone actually see one this summer?) and annual flowers that were stunted by spring frost and killed in late bloom by autumn frost.
In an effort to achieve the appropriate holiday attitude, I will consider the many things for which I should be thankful. First, I was able to construct that previous sentence without a dangling participle. Second, I am not a farmer whose survival depends on tomatoes the size and quality of children’s marbles. Third, odds are that next summer won’t be a record-breaking summer miserable weather. Fourth, I can’t remember any other summer where forest fires were next to nonexistent on the news. Also, we had some impressive rainstorms but not a single hurricane, tornado, earthquake, or sinkhole.
I’m thankful I’m alive and have a decent chance to remain that way for respectable time since I live in Canada not in a Third World or a war-torn country.
I can read this newspaper, unlike 5% of Canadians who have trouble dealing printed matter. I can afford this newspaper, unlike 14.3% Canadian families living below poverty level. I can write this column, which means I have a sense of humour (hopefully).
Smile wrinkles are far more attractive than frown wrinkles.
I’m thankful that the Peregrine falcon has been downgraded on the list of endangered Canadian species and that Pee Wee Herman has been downgraded on the list of bizarre species. I’m thankful that I’ve never fallen for Woody Allen who has been downgraded, period.
I’m thankful that Ann Landers, like expensive wine, has improved over the years. Tina Turnner is still steaming windows at age 54. Although John Crowe is Canadian, at least Dan Quayle isn’t.
I’m thankful all the kids are back to school and life is following a rough and wild routine. We no longer feel like golden agers going to bed before the kids now that bedtime is scheduled again. I enjoy our togetherness more when I have some time alone.
Camping season is over and none of us was eaten by a berry starved, compost crazed bear.
I’m grateful for small golden moments of sweetness, such as my little boy’s voice wafting up from the bathroom as he sings a YTV songs that never, never, never, never end. My Third World foster child wrote to say she is married, (we didn’t even send a cow). The new wallpaper actually looks better on the bathroom wall than on the roll except for that giant bubble that didn’t exist before I went to work.
It’s good to have a day that reminds us that I have so much to be thankful for. Ideally, I should make it a regular experience. After all, there’s something precious in every single day.
October 11, 1992
HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO MY FELLOW CANADIANS!