I’m grateful for Thanksgiving. I’m grateful for what my life has become. I’m grateful for the amends I’ve been able to make. I’m grateful for the chance to help other alcoholics. I’m grateful for the help of other alcoholics. I’m grateful to be sober today.
Actual Thanksgiving Morning 2022 View! Note: Huge Underdog Balloon Not Yet Visible.
I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned that I have always loved Thanksgiving? I have always loved Thanksgiving. I like the Turkey, I like the mashed potatoes, I loved my grandmother’s glazed carrots, I love pumpkin pie, I liked the fact that football was built into the holiday. One more story and I promise it’s quick.
It was Thanksgiving 1975-ish. We’re in Minnesota and I’m trying to organize the football game,1 My Uncle David, our potential 8th, is declining repeated entreaties from me, citing the potential damage to his new ankle-high, zip up boots (remember those!). Aunt Ruby (technically, Great-Aunt Ruby) has been listening in on my last few attempts to get David to do the right thing, the American thing, play some football on Thanksgiving, man! She throws a snarky look at David and his zip-up boots and says, “I’ll play.”2
Aunt Ruby lived in St. Paul, her husband, who owned a hardware store, had died many years before and Ruby lived a pretty independent, pretty cool life. She had held on to her Vikings season tickets and went to every game. These were the days when the stadium was in Bloomington and outdoors. If you're not familiar with midwestern weather patterns, I’m going to clue you in, it gets pretty f****** cold in Minnesota in the winter. Ruby was a pretty bad-ass Vikings fan.3
Not related to the story in any way. Just a pretty obvious attempt at emotional manipulation.
We got outside and Ruby showed why she was such a boss. I usually played qb in these games, today was going to be different: Ruby wanted the ball. She made it clear that she wasn’t going to be running or blocking—she was a smoker in her late 60’s at this point—she was going to play quarterback. It worked out. Ruby had an arm and we smoked my Uncle Ken’s team. Those ankle boots? Well, they still provoke a disdainful head-shake from me.
I love Thanksgiving. How could I not be down with a holiday that’s about expressing gratitude! Speaking of which, as a subscriber to a Daily Gratitude List, you could share something you’re grateful for:
Here are two more things I’m grateful for: I had the chance to do a guest shot for our good friend Paulina Pinsky at newly sober. I wrote about my grandfather and his friend Hank, who was the first alcoholic I knew:
Second, Jane wrote a great piece yesterday, if you missed it, here it is:
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanks for Letting Me Share
It turns out the reason it feels like I’ve been doing that, even professionally, my entire life, is that I’ve been doing it my entire life.
Ruby wore super-cool, silver, horned-rim glasses.
My family is Norwegian on both sides— that Viking blood runs pretty thick.
Lovely post! Happy Thanksgiving! And how lovely to see that picture of Moose.