THANKSGIVING AND GIVING THANKS
In these very challenging times, it remains important to reflect on things in our lives that are good and to acknowledge those that inspire gratitude.
The following is a personal essay.
Given the bleak moment we are in, I want to step away from the political and the dire to reflect on what brings happiness and joy. I choose to focus on those experiences that elicit gratitude. I am dispostionally a serious person. While I am not fully committed to the tragic view of life, I often sense that I veer in that direction. For that reason, I believe we must rescue the good, the joyous and life-affirming, from the stark realities that afflict us and often come unbidden. I love to laugh, and we need to laugh given the tragedies that befall us and from which few people are spared. A Pollyanna I am not, but I am by no means committed to the notion that nothing can ever be good. I feel the need to step out of the brute realities of life, enjoy moments of sunshine, and affirm ways in which I am fortunate.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. As a Jew, Christmas never had any meaning to me. It was a day off in which I would look for something to do, either a walking tour of a New York neighborhood, time with friends, or just staying at home and turning some quiet time into a reading experience. Frankly, I couldn't get into the spirit of Hanukkah either. It is the most minor of Jewish holidays, not even mentioned in the Bible. Its celebration is, to a great extent, an American contrivance, gussied up so that Jewish children wouldn't feel excluded from the ubiquitous mirth and gift-giving of the season. While presented as a commemoration of religious freedom, Hanukkah can't be divorced from its militarism, and the triumph of religion of a very conservative kind. And I must say, I have an active dislike of Halloween. Also of Christian origin, it has gone over the top. With so much to fear in life as it is, do we really need to aggressively impose the garish, the ghoulish, and the creepy on our anxious sensibilities? I especially have trouble understanding why anyone concludes that such gruesome pageantry is appropriate for children.
But I look forward to Thanksgiving. Despite controversy around the holiday's origin and the ensuing fate of Native Americans at the hands of European incursions, the contemporary celebration brings families together to share the camaraderie of the table. It is a needed celebration, allowing us to enjoy, in my view, what is most important in a society in which people are frenetically busy, and family bonds have, lamentably,grown thinner.
While ceremonial efforts around the holiday table to articulate what we are thankful for can seem a bit contrived, it does inspire, for me, an opportunity to quietly reflect on the sources of gratitude in my life. To express gratitude is a deep need of the human soul that is not often or sufficiently recognized.
Here are some personal reflections that inspire gratitude.
Economic security
I am not wealthy, but despite an anti-bourgeois sensibility in which making money was never an exalted aspiration, now in my 70s, I am comfortably middle class. It dawned on me only within the past decade that I am privileged. I am not referencing white privilege in this instance, but economic privilege. While conservatives may hold that one's station in life is primarily a product of an individual's own efforts, industriousness, and choices, I believe this analysis of one's well-being is essentially false. Far more determinative of one's station in life is a product of contingency - the circumstances, the time, place and the environment into which one is born – in short, conditions not of one's own making.
I was fortunate to have been born into a middle-class family after World War Two. The economy and the middle class were growing in a manner unprecedented in American history. The economy was at my back. I was born into a culture and a family on my mother's side that greatly valued education, and it was a certainty from in utero that I would go to college. And I did. My father was born into abject poverty in Ukraine and had no formal education whatsoever. However, his older son went to college and attained two master's degrees and a doctorate from an Ivy League university. As an undergraduate, I pledged to not take courses that had any practical utility whatsoever out of the conviction that that was not what college was for. I had a gilded opportunity to expand the life of the mind and deepen my knowledge for its own sake. I decided to major in Latin and Greek as an expression of my anti-materialist commitments, and I have not regretted the choice for a moment. I recently retired from teaching at Hunter College. Given the realities of the present economy, I could not expect my students today to be as cavalier in their academic choices as I could afford to be in the mid-1960s. I was indeed fortunate.
I was able to make productive choices for myself and have had a very emotionally fulfilling, though not lucrative, career. In John Stuart Mill's elegant phrase, I was able to pursue my own “plan of life.” But the plan I made was in active relation to a context that was given and not taken. It emerged from a very fortuitous economic environment that I was born into and did not myself create. Reflection on that reality leaves me at this retrospective stage of life with profound feelings of gratitude.
Health
I used to joke that I am in the twilight of my youth. It has long run its course. Age is taking its toll, and I conclude that the person who defined the last decades of life as the “golden years” was a fool and suffered from denial deeper than mine.
My sixties were the most challenging decade. In starkest terms, I am an orthopedic wreck. I have had five major orthopedic surgeries. Two turned out very well. One replaced hip became infected, and had my surgeon not come in on an emergency basis to replace it again, I most likely would have died of sepsis. My spinal fusion, though doctors tell me was beautifully done, leaves me with pain when I walk considerable distances. My knee replacement, the most common of joint surgeries, did not quite turn out as I hoped, and ascending and descending stairs is uncomfortable and compromises my balance. I head for the banister, and I don't like the optics. I am also a cancer survivor having suffered a malignant melanoma.
But despite aches and pains and having confronted the assault on my vanity, I am otherwise in good health with no life-threatening chronic ailments. Here is where gratitude comes in. I am not embittered, nor self-pitting. While my operations did not all eventuate as advertised, I conclude that I am far better off than if I had not had them at all. But more significantly, I realize that I live in both a time and a place wherein I could find remediation for my significant ailments. Had I lived 70 years earlier, I most likely would be in a wheelchair, taking painkillers of dubious efficacy, probably with significant side effects. I am very grateful for the convergence of many factors: the advances of medical science, the dedication and skill of my doctors, and my residing in a location wherein I could access the most advanced medical care. And yes, don't mess with my Medicare. I can look forward to the future.
Retirement
I am semi-retired, though more retired than not. Almost three years ago, I left my position as the professional leader of the Ethical Culture Society in Teaneck, New Jersey after 46 years. I also retired from the classroom, having taught human rights for 20 years at Columbia University's Graduate School, and undergraduates at Hunter College. I still retain a part-time position with the Ethical Culture Society in New York City. Ethical Culture is a humanist community, which promotes applied ethical values in both private and public life.
Some people are apprehensive when anticipating retirement. I was not. My work was immensely fulfilling. Ethical Culture leadership enabled me to live my highest values with integrity and in a community of others with whom I found respect and mutual admiration. I also simply loved the classroom. I am passionate about ideas and am energized by their interchange. I felt deeply satisfied being able to support my students, and even now experience moments of joy when they are in touch and acknowledge the role I played in their lives.
I was devoted to my careers and worked hard. With the exception of vacations, I almost never took a day off in more than half a century of work. Sunday was a prime work day, and my wife and I never experienced a long weekend. Though, as noted, my work was extremely meaningful, there was a never-ending quality to it. It was a treadmill of constant productivity, assignments, and deadlines to be met, in a never-ending cycle of diverse but overlapping projects. One thing continuously bled into another.
In my retirement, temporal space has opened up. I have discovered an experience I did not foresee: not being beholden to extrinsically imposed deadlines is extremely liberatory. I feel a sense of inner freedom and slow-burning joy in finding myself bereft of scheduled obligations. I am assuredly active and productive, but the “work” I do is almost exclusively self-created. This makes a categorical difference with regard to stress and anxiety, and fear, external or internally imposed, of being judged or evaluated. I am more relaxed, and this is a very good thing.
I also love to write. But given professional demands, I could only indulge this interest in the nooks and crannies of my time. But with space having opened up, I now write continuously and at my own rate. Writing has become a pillar of this next phase of life. The essay you are now reading, and many others, are the fruits of my newfound freedom.
My life feels much freer. As never before, it is very much my own, and for this I am very grateful.
Friendship
I have always placed great value on friendship, and at this stage, it has become of singular importance. Among my most cherished moments is to be in the presence of someone whom I care about and who cares for me, and be able to openly share interiorities. At its most heightened moments, it becomes a transcendent experience. Some friendships provide the opportunity for the rich exchange of ideas. Some friends have been caring and supportive when I have been in great need. Most of the friends I share my life with provide both experiences and more.
Life's demands have made the maintenance of abiding friendships more difficult. The pace of life has rendered friendship ancillary rather than a defining element of the life experience, and everyone is “busy.” I have also lamented that society has become increasingly corporatized and commodified. These supervening dynamics have leached down to transform the private spheres of life in which friendship primarily resides. Getting together with friends has come to resemble a business appointment, wedged in between impersonal obligations dedicated to practical ends. We have become cogs. In my view, friendship is an end in itself.
I have made a personal effort to resist these dehumanizing influences that impress themselves on the private spheres of life. I have striven to deepen and expand my friendships. I have made a concerted effort to cultivate new friendships. It is a continuous process, and my circle is growing. Time spent with friends is expanding and my experiences more enriching. I am abidingly thankful for these relationships and the unique moments they bring.
Loss and Love
My beloved wife died a little more than eight years ago. We were married for 41 years. Her death came swiftly and unexpectedly. She had pancreatic cancer and during the last five and half weeks, when she first became symptomatic, she suffered several catastrophes that left her immobile, aphasic, and with diminished awareness. Thankfully she was never in pain.
Her death left me very grief-stricken. Most painful was the loneliness. The presence of her absence weighed on me very heavily. The home we had shared felt as if it were depleted of oxygen. Every pleasant memory immediately brought to mind her absence. I considered that coping with my grief and managing my loneliness would be the reality governing my life until the end.
It was the loneliness, somewhat assuaged by the passage of time, that encouraged me to make efforts to change my condition. I was looking for companionship. With great fortune, I found much more.
These days dating sites provide the most promising possibilities. For a year, I met about six women. Almost all were very interesting. However, it was clear that having common interests is not sufficient to generate meaningful or lasting attraction. Though a cliché, it's “chemistry” that makes the difference.
A year ago last March, I met a woman online who initially appealed. What caught my attention was a quote she included on her profile that referenced a poem by Leonard Cohen. I concluded that anyone who liked Leonard Cohen was someone I wanted to meet. Sometimes small things in life yield momentous consequences.
We met at a restaurant in Manhattan, and I knew that this meeting was different. And it assuredly was. The woman who became my partner is kind and generous. She is very smart and sociable. We share similar progressive values and interests. She lives in Manhattan and is very connected to New York's cultural scene. And like me, she loves to laugh.
My new relationship has been truly transformative. My new partner has become the center of my life. Our relationship has imbued me with happiness I never anticipated I would ever experience. Freud had once observed that love is a form of madness. Maybe he was correct. Yes; a delightful madness.
My finding my new partner feels like an act of serendipity, of extremely good fortune. I could not be more thankful for how my life has changed and been ineffably enriched. Through the love of a wonderful person, I have found happiness.
Eternal moments
I am not a good Buddhist. I am emotionally too wired. My mind is always active and congested with thoughts. The pandemic caused us to narrow the scope of our attention, and I tried to put the restricted condition to good use.
I have a splendid backyard. It is unusually large for the part of the county I live in, only eight miles from New York City. Two-thirds of my property is a primeval forest, with majestic trees, some more than 180 feet tall. The woods are home to a range of animals; hawks, hedgehogs, an occasional fox, and families of deer.
During the pandemic, I made a studied effort to push the world away and center my attention on one thing and only one. I was attempting to appreciate the moment, enter into a timeless present, appreciate its singularity, and the beauty of the object or phenomenon for its own sake. With practice, I was able to develop this ability. As I did, I could admire the shafts of sunlight coming through the trees at sunrise, alternating with shadows. Each morning their angles changed. I appreciated the beauty of the individual flowers I planted in the spring, each with its own integrity. The silent sauntering of the deer, pursuing their own interests and unmindful of me provided moments of quiet joy.
There is freedom in such contemplation, unmoored from practical intentions and striving. My quiet appreciation confirms Wordsworth's famous observation, that “the world is too much with us; late and soon...little we see in Nature that is ours.” As such, I have learned to balance the yen for continuous productivity with moments of appreciation of beauty, and of the integrity of nature in its complexity that is sublimely indifferent to my interests. There is something uplifting in such transcendent, timeless moments. Something, I suggest, even spiritual.
Such insight leaves me with a sense of thankfulness for the gift of life and the beauty, mystery, and awe that experiencing my place in the realm of nature provides.
A final word on grace
I have often noted that people of secular persuasion have yielded to the religions some of the most personally meaningful experiences and words to describe them. This is unfortunate, for there is no warranted reason why these important values can't be expressed by those who don't ascribe to them theological origins. I am thinking of such concepts as forgiveness, repentance, atonement, absolution, and even mercy. I add grace to this list.
In religious, mostly Christian parlance, grace is the divine favor granted to persons who are unworthy. Yet, as an agnostic, I think all people can receive grace divorced from supernatural agency. I think many, if not most, people feel that life circumstances often demand more of them than their resources can meet. We often feel that circumstances place us beyond our ability to cope. We struggle hard to meet life's challenges and we feel the pain of it. At times we are overwhelmed by tragedy. We find ourselves emotionally depleted.
But sometimes circumstances converge to lighten our burdens. Good things happen that come unbidden, our worries are quelled and our outlook brightens. Sometimes we are beneficiaries of relief in the absence of having to struggle for it. This is a gift. It is a natural form of grace, and though not often, we can feel, and I do, that life has been kind.
Grace.
I really enjoyed the brief discussion of your your life and new partner as well as your orthopedic distresses I suffer from arthritis in the spine which causes limitations in my activities but I too have much to be grateful for in a good friend Thanks for sharing
I'm glad that you have so much to be thankful for.