It’s Thanksgiving weekend, a holiday that doesn’t quite fit into our consumer culture but one of my favourites nonetheless.
I mean it always takes a back seat to Christmas in this country for obvious reasons but in many ways it even has less star power than Halloween (which in my book doesn’t even qualify for holiday status as there’s no day off involved).
But then that’s partly due to the nature of the holiday, quietly giving thanks and gratitude for all the splendour we enjoy in these parts, versus all the hullabaloo and hijinks that is Halloween.
They are almost polar opposites in many ways, the former is reflective, passive, life-affirming and thoughtful while the latter is superficial, in-your-face, death-obsessed and loud.
Hey, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy both, especially when you have young kids for the latter, but today’s treatise is on Thanksgiving and how maybe it needs a better public relations department.
But, then again, that would be the wrong approach.
The holiday is deliberately low-key by nature and not into creating a fuss about anything, that’s entirely the wrong approach for quiet reflection.
Three cheers for Thanksgiving comes off wrong somehow.
Nevertheless I think the holiday has much to teach our fast-paced, gotta-have-it-before-it’s-passe, mile-a-minute modern society.
Maybe, just maybe we should take some time off the treadmill and reflect and be grateful for the bounty we share in these parts and get to witness on a daily basis.
I mean the summer we just enjoyed was amazing and the current weather is almost even more phenomenal with the cooler nights and the more relaxing feel of autumn.
I had a week off recently and tried to take the time to do some of the things that I wanted to do, but never found the time to get accomplished, in the daily routine of a two working parents lifestyle that we like to call modern times.
So I got winter tires for the truck, went for dinner with friends on a Friday night, started on the pile of magazines next to my bedstand and played tennis with the old man.
Now it should be noted that “the old man” reference shows no disrespect to my father, who is 83 and kind of qualifies if the truth be told, but it’s a moniker he used to describe his, well, “old man,” and it’s carried on, somewhat, to the next generation and maybe even to the next one, although I dare my boys to use it……….
Anyway the opportunity to play tennis with your dear ol’ dad on a late September Friday afternoon in Canada is something to be grateful for in itself. So it was nice just to be there, as they say, and share the experience.
And the fact that it was quickly 2-0 for the old man wasn’t that surprising as he plays with some other gentlemen twice a week and he has this brand new racquet and I couldn’t remember the last time I played and my racquet is old and……..but I’m from a family of four boys and we’re a pretty competitive lot and I used to play quite a bit, so I was intent on at least winning one game.
And I won two. And then he won two and before you knew it was 5-5 and we were heading for a tiebreaker and the competitive juices were flowing, well, as if I was a teenager and he was, well, whatever he was in the year 1975 on the shores of Kalamalka Lake.
But, of course, it was 2014 and I wasn’t young anymore and he definitely wasn’t either and when he stopped short of attempting to return one volley suggesting “that there isn’t quite as much running in doubles like I’m used to,” I was starting to feel guilty and thinking “OK, winning is important but keeping the old man around a few more years is maybe even more important.”
Or was he playing me, so to speak?
In the “all’s well that end’s well” department we both lived to tell, well at least I’m telling, our story and, yes, I did end up winning (ahem) but more importantly it was yet another moment to feel blessed about on so many levels.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone.
