It's Thanksgiving. Squanto. Pilgrims in silly hats. That long table
Ours was a a small gathering this year, just five of us (and the dog). We ate well, drank decent wine (there will be more with the leftovers tomorrow, had good conversation, took family photos to send to friends. (Not posting here, sorry.)
We are I have to say very lucky. Not so many others. The poor, the infirm, the homeless. Those in jails and prisons, those living in places and under far harsher than even the worst of the mean streets of greater Cleveland.
It is worth on this day, thinking about them, remembering that we (and I include in that "we" all of you [any of you?] who read these musings) are all, however much we're inclined to bemoan our circumstance, far better off than so many others.
This is the start (or maybe the heart) of the giving season. As you go about your business, as you open your mail (snail and e-), you'll likely be bombarded with appeals. Whatever causes move you, I urge you to be generous. Because, once again, you are lucky.
Give thanks. Hug the kids. Lift a glass.
Thanks for reading.