While I hate to lambast a respected journalist, and best-selling author, I will. When Peggy Noonan declares that this Thanksgiving serves up a “new gratitude,” she proceeds to offer up her thoughts as well as her friends’ ideas for what deserves gratitude. Their ideas stink.
Declarations, Noonan’s column for the Wall Street Journal, Still Here After a Rough Year, November 21-22, 2009, poses the question, “What are you grateful for in 2009?”
Her unofficial poll of a dozen friends yields two themes snugged together tighter than garters on nylons: survival (as in, I am still here after great tumultuous change in the economy) followed by large, grand concepts or newly discovered improvements. No one was thankful for anything as basic as running water.
The year was a hard one: layoffs, companies failing, careers de-railed, pensions imploded. It isn’t over yet. We’ve previously used the phrase, “time is the new currency.” Whether or not that resonates with you could be reflected in what’s on your personal list of what you’re grateful for in 2009.
As businesses mount efforts to retain valued employees, this next year could be an opportunity to identify what’s important for you to take into your future. If time is your new currency, you could negotiate a sabbatical or seek out a company that provides one. For certain, there will be life and careers after this churn but all this is another topic.
Thursday, during the last bite of your sweet potato pie, ask yourself what you’re grateful for in 2009. For best results, get real specific and simple.
Peg’s column was prompted by her cab ride down Fifth Avenue where she looked up and saw the white-gray marble and huge windows of the Bergdorf Goodman building – tall, stately,still standing – preparing their windows for the Christmas season. Noonan’s thoughts, “We’re still here. I am so grateful.”
Margaret’s friends (she probably goes by her given name, Margaret Ellen with them) are grateful for a range of things – surviving a global crisis, improved breast cancer survival rates, that the country didn’t fall apart. While it’s hard to argue with Noonan’s reasons for gratefulness or any of her friend’s, most of it feels lofty and intellectual. I like old buildings too, appreciate the freedom in my country and know that as I work each day to move my career foraward, millions struggle with unemployment.
But if you ratchet down your “blessings list,” you’ll find that time – the moments you have this minute– is your biggest blessing by far. If your time is gone tomorrow, you won’t be creating or thinking about what to be thankful for on Thursday. Instead, your family and friends will be hurriedly reconstructing your bio and selecting some good music to honor your life. That “life” merely consists of the moments of time you have won in some sort of lotto system none of us have figured out and how choose to spend every second.
Like Ms. Noonan’s cab ride, my inspiration for getting down to the basics of blessings was a 4-day visit with my father who will turn 94 years old on Wednesday. Old friends of the same age in the vicinity don’t exist, but we gathered together a few ten years younger and celebrated. It was good.
Between the celebration, there was the twice daily, arduous journey on the walker to the dining room, efforts to spark conversations during meals with residents who concentrated on their food, over-loud televisions and bubbly staff bringing pills.
I joked with colleagues that I could offer them new parameters to consider when judging the worth of their days:
Did you feed yourself today? Then, it’s a good day.
Are you mobile? It’s a great day.
Can you both feed yourself and walk? AWESOME day.
Aside from this dark humor, I received my gratitude lesson for this Thanksgiving holiday just before I left. Leaving the dining table, I said good-by to Frieda who had been directed to join our table for lunch. “I hope to see you again,” I said. “Well, I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ll be around long,” she replied.
Fifteen minutes later, I kissed my Dad’s stubbled cheek, said good-bye and told him I’d see him again in a couple of months. With his steely grey eyes meeting mine, he said matter-of-factly, “Well, Barbara. Maybe, I’ll still be here.”
Maybe he will and maybe he won’t.
When time ticks along with air in your lungs, a heart that beats and a mind that works, you’re not only blessed but have reason to contemplate a future. Still, that future may be long or short no matter how old you are. (It’s that lotto system again!)
Yes, we survived a rough year and lots in life may have changed – momentarily or forever. But, if you’re still around on Thursday, pull out that imaginary lotto ticket, wave it above your head and cheer. Then have some pie.
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