It’s Thanksgiving. One of my favorite days. I’m pretty good at being thankful for stuff.
Unlike many Americans who compare themselves to what they see on TV or their rich neighbors or whatnot, I’m constantly pleased that I’m not dying of malaria in a mud hut. (I am also pleased when I flip a switch on the wall and lights go on. Trust me on this, AC lighting seems mundane until you don’t have it.)
I don’t know where I got that attitude. Most Americans aren’t sitting in a mud hut. We have lights, and flush toilets, and 50 channels of shit on big screen TVs. We can drink $4 lattes while bitching about the NSA tracking personally owned $300 Smartphones most people use to surf Facebook. ‘Aint life grand? Most folks think civilization is no big deal but I’m ecstatic. Why I’m delighted to be “average” is beyond me. Yet there it is.
We are among the most fortunate people to be in one of the most fortunate nations in one of the most fortunate times in all of mankind’s long and messy history. Yay!
P.S. I didn’t explain the title. My grandmother, who was an excellent human being, fount of wisdom, and tough as nails, used to have a phrase she applied whenever I (as a young child Curmudgeon) complained about anything. “Waaahhhh, I fell off my bicycle, school sucks, the AMC Gremlin is disgusting, I hate broccoli…” She’d give me an evil smile and say “Yeah, well it’s better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.” (Not that she’d take out my eye, but somehow you got the idea her idea of a bad day made my complaints seem like a cakewalk.) She was brilliant. When you set the bar at searing pain, everything seems better; and then you shut up an leave your grandmother in peace. (Which was likely her main goal.) So I share this with you; wisdom from my grandmother to the universe. Enjoy it. And have a splendid holiday.