Are you thankful?
Most people say they are.
Do they really mean it? Do they really know what it means to be thankful?
I admit that I did not know what it meant for many years.
Sure, I expressed thanks at the dinner table each Thanksgiving. It was momentary — fitting for the season. It was fashionable to declare my thanks each year when I visited home from college for the holiday. It displayed maturity. I knew that my parents sacrificed a great deal for me. They devoted themselves to my development and nurtured it in every way they could. I had it good — but did I truly appreciate it?
No. I took it all for granted — my health, my family, my friends, the home, the food, the clothing, the education. Life was a party. I didn't fully appreciate what I had. I even had the nerve to want more.
When did I learn what it meant to be truly grateful? The answer is simple — when I thought I had lost it all. I became thankful after I became terrified. I knew I was truly grateful when my body shivered and tears formed rivers from my eyes as someone extended the tiniest bit of kindness to me after I hit rock bottom. Evidence of an ever- increasing attitude of gratitude is now demonstrated by softness towards my fellow man and a greater eagerness to go the extra mile to help another.
Being thankful and grateful is something not expressed with fashionable vernacular but in one's daily actions. We display our values every day by our treatment to others as well as ourselves.
Through the years I noticed insensitivity to others in the collective character of Angelenos. It became a part of our nature, generating a benign but callous atmosphere which hovered in the air all year. We took ourselves too seriously, too much in a hurry to get somewhere in our precious cars. We only grudgingly paused to answer a question from a stranger without bothering to hide our irritation. This softened during the Thanksgiving holiday week, but we always returned to our old callous ways soon enough, and with a vengeance.
The atmosphere is different this year in Los Angeles. There's more genuine concern among us. We talk to each other more. We are not in as much hurry to get into cars and speed off to our so-important destinations while ignoring the needs of our fellow residents. People are standing patiently listening to each other.
We, as a city, are learning what it means to be grateful. It seems that turnaround from showing kindness and concern once a year during the holiday season to what seems to be a genuine collective attitude of gratitude and thankfulness has been the economic recession.
The economy has terrified us.
Indeed, the toughest economic picture since the Great Depression has changed how we look at the world as well as ourselves. Throughout the year we continually read about wave after wave of massive job cuts. Record numbers of families were losing are losing their homes to foreclosure. Nothing, it seems, can be taken for granted any longer. No one, it seems, is immune from the budget ax. No one knows what to expect of the future.
Hearing heart wrenching stories about people becoming sick with inadequate healthcare insurance or none at all leaves us feeling vulnerable. No longer can we find comfort racing along the freeways. Instead, it seems, we are beginning to find comfort in each other, listening to our friends and colleagues while sharing our fears and concerns.
Ask folks what aspects of their lives make them feel thankful and you'll hear the familiar responses.
"I'm thankful for my health."
"I am grateful to have a roof over my head and have food."
"I'm thankful to have a job."
Those words, once expressed in fashion as an expected utterance for the season, now ring carry with them a profound resonance. Angelenos are truly experiencing gratitude in ways they never before have felt. We are thankful in having each other. The recession made us realize the precious nature of community.
Last night, after a long day, I walked into my mother's bedroom. Dementia is tightening its grip on her, carrying her to the next plateau of confusion, fear and the unknown. She grabbed my hand as I sat on her bed. I whispered into her ear "I love you mom." She squeezed my hand tighter while struggling to say "thank you."
I was thankful to give her that moment of comfort and feeling of security.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Walter Melton is a writer for the L.A. Garment & Citizen.
Photo from Wikimedia Commons.
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Walter,
Your words are growing in beauty and wisdom.
Thank you for sharing: your thoughts come from a place of truth.