Trying to be Thankful

Thanksgiving.
It's hard for me to give many thanks this year.

That first feast was later regretted by the Native Americans
who were persecuted and slaughtered by some of those
whom they had befriended; As a symbol of brotherhood,
it failed miserably for the African Americans imported as
slaves to raise, harvest, cook and serve the feasts. (Are
school children still being sent home with glowing tales of
the good pilgrims and the good Indians breaking bread
together? With drawings of fat turkeys and kindly
pilgrims?)

As a time of release from jobs when family and
friends can gather, it has some merit for all of us.
If we must be ruled by the calendar, then we must
seize those designated days and make the most of
them, though it would be better if we could create
our own holidays and celebrations.

And I will be thankful while I am with some of my
family this weekend, unendingly thankful that none
of them is missing from the table.

The world is so beautiful this year. The leaves are
falling, and the trees blaze gold and scarlet against
skies of a cool, autumn blue. The sunlight is mellow
and warm, punctuated by little chill breezes that
spring up now and then. How can it be so lovely just
now, for I am feeling again one of the penalties of living
so long- we outlive so many of those we love.

Two of my best friends, one I've known for 30 years,
the other since 1995, are living their last days.

I remember Charles Kuralt, during his Sumday
morning tv programs, telling us who had died
recently, and then saying:
"Oh, how can we ever do without them?"

And my heart now is echoing him, and he is
also among the missing and missed.