Thanks



By Sunny Fry

It's that week, time to prepare for that particularly American holiday.  So I'm making a list of things I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for the strong, warm, funny, lunatic family I'm in the middle of.  They keep me grounded, make me laugh, and give me purpose.  If I fell off a cliff tomorrow, I'll still have accomplished everything worth accomplishing in this life -- a good marriage, with roots driven deep by the hard parts, and branches expansive and lush from the good parts; and three sons, who are so very different in their talents and strengths, but who share a deep and genuine decency.  And the dog, who is the best anniversary gift I've ever gotten, and who makes me laugh every single day.

I'm thankful for the family I come from; a mother who bestowed on me her love of learning and her finely honed sense of irony and humor, a father who is himself simply utterly decent and good and generous, constant in his love and support; and a sister who annoyed me to pieces all those years ago, but who has turned into a wonderful, quirky, loving friend who bakes homemade pies and brownies and cheesecakes for us all.

I'm thankful to live in America, the only nation in the world to be founded on ideals.  We fight, fuss, and fume, and all through her history the doomsayers have predicted her imminent demise, but those ideals hold us true despite ourselves, and keep us hewing ever closer to those noble goals.

I'm thankful for all the things I take for granted.  The hot water in the shower (unlike one of our first homes, the cinderblock beach house with a shower stall <b>outside</b>), central heat (moving from kerosene heaters to central air is like magic -- push a button, and voila! I'm warm!), clean water safe to drink coming from my tap, refrigerators and freezers and a washer and dryer (talk to a young mama who drives to a Laundromat about what a luxury that is -- and factor in a husband who's all too easily persuaded to get all the bells and whistles -- I haven't <b>yet</b> figured out all those machines can do).  I'm thankful for penicillin and ibuprofen and my most excellent family doctor (Dr. Rowles at Waccamaw Primary Care), and that I can get my family's blood screened for $50 each instead of $700.  I'm thankful for global trade, and the millions of unsung heroes who perfected shipping and rail and roads, which bring me strawberries in November, and wine from Australia, and honey-crisp apples, and kiwi fruit, and fresh ginger.  I'm thankful for the easy availability of things like student loans, which make it possible for my kids to maximize their potential; and VA benefits for my Marine boy; and the very fine teachers and guidance counselors at Socastee High School, who are amazing at demanding excellence beyond what my kids know they have to give (and I went to school here, when we competed with Mississippi for the bottom of the barrel).

I'm thankful for my friends, those lovely people who forgive me for my years of working so hard, and pick up right where we left off when I finally get in contact.  And I'm thankful for that work -- I've always known it's a blessing, and never more so than the last couple of years.  I'm thankful for clients who pay their bills on time, and who send us work.

I'm thankful for my faith, for a God who sustains me when things are crumbling, and who doesn't seem to hold a grudge when I get distracted when things are better.  I'm thankful that I live in a place where no loudspeaker is demanding that I pray, but where I can choose which house or no house suits my faith journey better at that moment.  Thank you, God.  Seriously.

I'm grateful, frankly, for the economic hiccup we've experienced, the reminder that if we want to eat, we must work; there is no free lunch, even if you're a Wall Street guru.  A reminder that most of the things we fret about are so much less important than the things we need -- love and family and relationships.  If you have a roof over your head and food in your stomach and people who love you, frankly, everything else is just gravy. 

I wish everyone who's reading this their own day of thanksgiving, with all the memories associated with the smell of roasting turkey and dressing, and sweet potato casserole, and fresh rolls, and even the stupid green bean casserole (it's the only time of year I agree to that culinary monstrosity) and lovely, creamy, nutmeg scented pumpkin pie.   I wish not only abundance for all of you, but a recognition of those riches.

I'm thankful for the family I come from; a mother who bestowed on me her love of learning and her finely honed sense of irony and humor, a father who is himself simply utterly decent and good and generous, constant in his love and support; and a sister who annoyed me to pieces all those years ago, but who has turned into a wonderful, quirky, loving friend who bakes homemade pies and brownies and cheesecakes for us all.

I'm thankful to live in America, the only nation in the world to be founded on ideals.  We fight, fuss, and fume, and all through her history the doomsayers have predicted her imminent demise, but those ideals hold us true despite ourselves, and keep us hewing ever closer to those noble goals.

I'm thankful for all the things I take for granted.  The hot water in the shower (unlike one of our first homes, the cinderblock beach house with a shower stall <b>outside</b>), central heat (moving from kerosene heaters to central air is like magic -- push a button, and voila! I'm warm!), clean water safe to drink coming from my tap, refrigerators and freezers and a washer and dryer (talk to a young mama who drives to a Laundromat about what a luxury that is -- and factor in a husband who's all too easily persuaded to get all the bells and whistles -- I haven't <b>yet</b> figured out all those machines can do).  I'm thankful for penicillin and ibuprofen and my most excellent family doctor (Dr. Rowles at Waccamaw Primary Care), and that I can get my family's blood screened for $50 each instead of $700.  I'm thankful for global trade, and the millions of unsung heroes who perfected shipping and rail and roads, which bring me strawberries in November, and wine from Australia, and honey-crisp apples, and kiwi fruit, and fresh ginger.  I'm thankful for the easy availability of things like student loans, which make it possible for my kids to maximize their potential; and VA benefits for my Marine boy; and the very fine teachers and guidance counselors at Socastee High School, who are amazing at demanding excellence beyond what my kids know they have to give (and I went to school here, when we competed with Mississippi for the bottom of the barrel).

I'm thankful for my friends, those lovely people who forgive me for my years of working so hard, and pick up right where we left off when I finally get in contact.  And I'm thankful for that work -- I've always known it's a blessing, and never more so than the last couple of years.  I'm thankful for clients who pay their bills on time, and who send us work.

I'm thankful for my faith, for a God who sustains me when things are crumbling, and who doesn't seem to hold a grudge when I get distracted when things are better.  I'm thankful that I live in a place where no loudspeaker is demanding that I pray, but where I can choose which house or no house suits my faith journey better at that moment.  Thank you, God.  Seriously.

I'm grateful, frankly, for the economic hiccup we've experienced, the reminder that if we want to eat, we must work; there is no free lunch, even if you're a Wall Street guru.  A reminder that most of the things we fret about are so much less important than the things we need -- love and family and relationships.  If you have a roof over your head and food in your stomach and people who love you, frankly, everything else is just gravy. 

I wish everyone who's reading this their own day of thanksgiving, with all the memories associated with the smell of roasting turkey and dressing, and sweet potato casserole, and fresh rolls, and even the stupid green bean casserole (it's the only time of year I agree to that culinary monstrosity) and lovely, creamy, nutmeg scented pumpkin pie.   I wish not only abundance for all of you, but a recognition of those riches.