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What am I thankful for?
A few days ago, my daughter asked me, "Dad, what are you thankful for?" I don't remember what I said in response to her, but that question has always been difficult for me.
It seems that I'm often thinking about and regretting what I *don't* have, instead of appreciating the things I *do* have. This evening, while driving home from the home of two of my friends who invited me to their Thanksgiving dinner, I saw some large split-level houses, with lots of cars parked out front. What that kicked up for me is a long-standing want: a large house, with a large family. I often think that if I played my cards right, I could be the one living in that large house, and have that large family I always wanted. But instead, I'm alone, in a two-bedroom condo.
And then I think back to the soft, velvet voice of William De Vaughn: "Though you may not drive a great big Cadillac, diamond [rear window] in the back, sun roof top, gangster white walls, TV antenna in the back". (Or as some people would call it, a pimp-mobile, fully tricked out.) "You many not have a car at all, but remember, brothers and sisters, you can still stay and talk.... Just be thankful for what you've got."
If I had that large, $200,000 home, I would have been spending a small fortune every month for the mortgage, and spending lots of time on the lawn, landscaping, and upkeep. And I would need to still be married, with both my wife and I working.
Or maybe they're just struggling to stay at their level, hoping that neither parent in that two-income family gets laid off, and running the risk of missed payments, or worse, foreclosure. I know things have not been great for me since the Great Recession of 2008. And a lot of IT and/or software developer jobs have gone overseas, to talented programmers who have a lower ray rate than I.
Then I recall the lyrics from a song from one of my favorite Styx albums: "If you think your life is complete confusion, because you're neighbor's got it made, just remember that it's a grand illusion, and deep inside we're all the same." The sentiment is echoed in an old Italian proverb, "At the end of the [chess] game, the King and the Pawn go back in the same box."
I often wonder how my father managed as well as he did. He played his cards right. But he never shared his financial secrets with me. He was too afraid that I'd blab out sensitive financial information, and so he didn't tell me. Compared to him, I'm a lousy money manager. So I am definitely thankful that was able to provide well for himself, my mom, my sister, and I.
And I'm thankful for my "modest" two-bedroom condo, a car that's roadworthy and in good physical shape, my cats who keep me company at home, and the ability to afford the stuff I currently have.
I'm also thankful for the handful of friends I have that are happy to see me when I'm around. (And then my mind says, "But then, they don't invite you to parties or get-togethers very often. If they were truly happy to see you, and wanted you around, they'd invite you to participate more in their lives, instead of merely saying the words 'Good to see you' when they see you.")
I'm thankful that I don't have bullies in my life like I had when I was growing up. I don't have anyone spitting on me and calling me "fag boy", or anyone trying to light my pants on fire, or people who see me as an easy mark and try to make me fall for their jokes and gags.
I'm thankful for being somewhat able-bodied, with a sharp mind and keen intellect, with a vast knowledge of music, and fairly good health.
And mostly, I'm thankful for being awake, alive, and vertical for yet another day.
It seems that I'm often thinking about and regretting what I *don't* have, instead of appreciating the things I *do* have. This evening, while driving home from the home of two of my friends who invited me to their Thanksgiving dinner, I saw some large split-level houses, with lots of cars parked out front. What that kicked up for me is a long-standing want: a large house, with a large family. I often think that if I played my cards right, I could be the one living in that large house, and have that large family I always wanted. But instead, I'm alone, in a two-bedroom condo.
And then I think back to the soft, velvet voice of William De Vaughn: "Though you may not drive a great big Cadillac, diamond [rear window] in the back, sun roof top, gangster white walls, TV antenna in the back". (Or as some people would call it, a pimp-mobile, fully tricked out.) "You many not have a car at all, but remember, brothers and sisters, you can still stay and talk.... Just be thankful for what you've got."
If I had that large, $200,000 home, I would have been spending a small fortune every month for the mortgage, and spending lots of time on the lawn, landscaping, and upkeep. And I would need to still be married, with both my wife and I working.
Or maybe they're just struggling to stay at their level, hoping that neither parent in that two-income family gets laid off, and running the risk of missed payments, or worse, foreclosure. I know things have not been great for me since the Great Recession of 2008. And a lot of IT and/or software developer jobs have gone overseas, to talented programmers who have a lower ray rate than I.
Then I recall the lyrics from a song from one of my favorite Styx albums: "If you think your life is complete confusion, because you're neighbor's got it made, just remember that it's a grand illusion, and deep inside we're all the same." The sentiment is echoed in an old Italian proverb, "At the end of the [chess] game, the King and the Pawn go back in the same box."
I often wonder how my father managed as well as he did. He played his cards right. But he never shared his financial secrets with me. He was too afraid that I'd blab out sensitive financial information, and so he didn't tell me. Compared to him, I'm a lousy money manager. So I am definitely thankful that was able to provide well for himself, my mom, my sister, and I.
And I'm thankful for my "modest" two-bedroom condo, a car that's roadworthy and in good physical shape, my cats who keep me company at home, and the ability to afford the stuff I currently have.
I'm also thankful for the handful of friends I have that are happy to see me when I'm around. (And then my mind says, "But then, they don't invite you to parties or get-togethers very often. If they were truly happy to see you, and wanted you around, they'd invite you to participate more in their lives, instead of merely saying the words 'Good to see you' when they see you.")
I'm thankful that I don't have bullies in my life like I had when I was growing up. I don't have anyone spitting on me and calling me "fag boy", or anyone trying to light my pants on fire, or people who see me as an easy mark and try to make me fall for their jokes and gags.
I'm thankful for being somewhat able-bodied, with a sharp mind and keen intellect, with a vast knowledge of music, and fairly good health.
And mostly, I'm thankful for being awake, alive, and vertical for yet another day.