No surprise here! Since starting this Journey In Place three years ago, I have felt the positive effects of not only recording those things for which I am grateful but also in revisiting the entries years later. Because of this practice of recording "The Little Big Things," I experience them multiple times--once when they're happening, again when I write about them, and again, again, and again when I re-read the entries, which means that recording such memories gives your soul a gratitude nuclear half-life! Is it no wonder that between a healthy diet, an active lifestyle, and practicing gratitude I have completely kick ass cholesterol and triglyceride numbers?
My last entry echoed a sentimental lyric called "I Hate to See October Go," written by the late, great Johnny Mercer. (Barry Manilow finished the song at Mercer's late wife's request and recorded it in the 80s.) There is no doubt a sweet melancholy in saying goodbye to those warm, dazzling silver, blue, and gold afternoons, which will give way to damp, drizzling, brown, and grey afternoons. And yet, a couple of weeks into the Drizzling Brown month, I feel myself getting excited about my favorite family holiday, Thanksgiving.
As kids, my grandma would have us (Earl, me, Todd, Chad) over the night before. She'd take us to Burger Chef or make us TV Dinners (Oh, the luxury!), and we'd play Aggravation or Yahtzee, watch TV, play in the basement, and help her get ready for the big dinner the next day. On Thanksgiving, we'd wake up early and start racing around in excitement. After dinner, we'd play outside, wearing ourselves completely out in the cold air, and some years our moms would drop us off at the movies!
In my teen years, the night before Thanksgiving was always a silly night out with friends in one of our various basements, our imagination bursting through the seams of our little town. We'd watch MTV, make our own videos (RunDMC, for some reason), play ping pong or darts, and just enjoy being young and having great friends. Sometimes we'd drive down by the beach, the echoes of our summer nights still whispering in our ear.
I had a sort of Gap year, although it was hardly glamorous. All my friends either went away to college or were still in high school. (I was someone who could be friends with anyone and had friends in every grade, which some people thought was weird, but screw those snobs.) I was going to a local college and working a fun job at a tanning/fitness salon, trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life. I loved my friends, music, my bedroom, and my mom, but I knew I had to get out of there. Shortly after the T-givng of my "Gap" year, I enlisted in the Air Force.
My first T-giving away from home was pretty fun. I had graduated boot camp end of October and was flown to Denver to complete my technical training. A few weeks on base, and I already friends and a very cute boyfriend from California. I loved my dorm room and communal living and was working hard in tech school, making friends from all walks of life. In 1988, the drinking laws were a bit strange in Colorado. I was in some sort of grandfather clause that allowed me to drink 3.2 beer, which was a BIG DAMN DEAL, because it meant I could go to certain clubs. However, I hadn't been on base long enough to actually have such off-base privileges, so the rest of the newbies and I had a giant party in the dorm, no supervision in sight. I missed my family, yes, but the chow hall did serve a nice dinner, complete with shrimp cocktail, and it was fun going over in a big group. This was an exciting time for me! I was about to have off-base privileges in about a week and couldn't wait to go my first night club! And yet, I was also having fun being stuck on base that last night.
The next year was much different. I had been in England since the summer on my first real assignment, and life and my job had been pretty rough, and I had just moved in to a new dorm. I guess I wasn't feeling totally confident. I was totally surprised when two really cool and really cute guys I worked with unexpectedly invited me to a concert in London on Thanksgiving night, which of course is not a holiday for England. I'd never heard of The Primitives, but I knew these guys loved good music, and they were determined to get me out of my "classic rock" roots.
At this time, it was not completely unlikely that the IRA would bomb London, and we had to consider this in our travel. Just a week or so before, a UXO (unexploded ordinance) had been discovered in Kensington. Terrorist attacks on London had tapered a bit in the late 80s, but would pick up steam again in the early 90s.
I had no cool clothes to wear to a cool concert in London with two west coast guys! I drove (yes I was one of the few people who had a car in England!) to Bury St. Edmunds and found a shirt in the men's department of Marks & Spencer that said Dizzy Bopper on it, and I guess was going for a Tom Girl kind of look, pairing it with a long black skirt and black flats. I actually got compliments on it. They picked me up and off we went to London, riding the tubes to various stations, and choosing Chinese cuisine for our Thanksgiving dinner. I missed my family, but I was so excited to be running around London with two great guys who looked after me and made sure I had fun. The concert was at Town & Country in Kentish Town, and Pale Saints opened. We bought Tshirts and posters and waited for the band in the alley after the concert and got to meet Tracy--whose sister would become famous in a few years for starting a band called The Cranberries. By the way, life got much better at RAF Lakenheath, England, after that night. I made wonderful friends and went on many adventures all over England and Europe!
I spent the next Thanksgiving in Operation Desert Storm, living in tent city in Taif, Saudi Arabia. All I remember is working the usual 14-hour shift that day and listening to boot leg tapes and reading The Stand by Stephen King.
The next year, I was stationed in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, and I can't really remember what I did, except that I had sweet potato pie for the first time. Maybe I had some friends visit me from another base or I went to see them or maybe I hung out by myself.
The next year, I was engaged and was living with my fiance in an apartment in Salt Lake City. I went all out and made my first Thanksgiving meal all by myself. I quickly learned that he hated all holidays, especially Christmas, and would just as soon that we not celebrate. A few years in, I decided it would just be easier to join him in his hate of holidays, especially Christmas, with Thanksgiving a close second as it preceded Christmas. Even after we divorced, fourteen years later, I still could not let go of the learned disdain.
By 2009, however, something clicked. I was spending Thanksgiving in Michigan with my parents, and none of my siblings made the trip, and the gathering with the extended family had been cancelled due to illness. My dad threw some steaks on the grill, and I remember having a wonderful day with them, realizing I had turned a corner after years of holiday-associated depression. I was working, single, not dating anyone, had my wonderful dog, Primo, and kitty Abby, and lots of friends, and a good life.
Things really clicked with me when Earl and his family moved back to Michigan, and suddenly, there were children again. It started out by taking them to the park after dinner and running around like fools. Then I started taking them out the day after T-giving, seeing movies, going out to eat, playing on the beach and bluff, visiting my grandma. The next year two years we had slumber parties. In 2012, Larry I took our first trip to Cape San Blas, leaving crack of dawn Friday. That was a wonderful trip!
And this week, I'm starting to get excited about Thanksgiving again! Earl and I are going to take the kids rollerskating on Thanksgiving Eve. I will probably take them to the movies day after. I know I don't have many years left with them. Luke and Grace are full-on teenagers, and in the blink of an eye, Daniel and Lauren will no longer be giving me running tackle hugs. But for now, they're still here, and they make me happier every year.
I'm grateful for so many things. I felt immensely grateful walking into work this Monday morning, happy to have a job. Abby and I spent a happy weekend at Larry's. Friday I went to a Ladies night, and Saturday Larry and I joined our good friends Brian, Deb, Eric, and Michele at a fun place called Bonge's then had them all over for dessert and games after.
I was sick for a couple of months following our trip to Canada and Maine. I'll explain later, but I'm fine now. I had all new windows installed last week, one more step towards making my home my castle.
A while back, I wanted to start a series of blogs with the title "Say Nice Things About..." as part of a self-care journey I was on. I didn't really follow through in writing things out, as I was pretty sick. I wonder if I could commit to these gratitude exercises, however.
I'm healthy, I'm employed, and I'm loved! I'm rarely all three things at once, so it's good to put it into writing.
Here I go now. Gonna harvest my garden of gratitude.
The Primitives: Crash
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