“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”
--Thornton Wilder
As many consistent readers and listeners of IWS know, life has hit a rough patch here in the Bagwine digs for Schmoop and me, and it would be easy, on this day of thanksgiving, to write about how my spirit, soul, and optimism have experienced blunt force trauma to the skull, but I refuse to allow that to happen.
After all…It’s Thanksgiving Day here in America, and in spite of personal setbacks, serious illness, and what could only be called, plain bad luck, I am very thankful for many things.
In spite of my oft times public displays of cynicism and sarcasm, I am at heart, a bit of an optimist, and perhaps that is why Thanksgiving has always been and has remained, in spite of its growing irrelevance in the eyes of many Americans of late, my favorite holiday.
Don’t get me wrong; Christmas is fantastic…
Christmas shines with the glow of dazzlingly wrapped gifts, the colorful lights, good-natured ho ho ho’s, and smiles on the faces of babes, but Thanksgiving has for me, always contained something much warmer, more comforting, and much brighter than the wonderful excitement that abounds at Christmas.
Growing up, Thanksgiving was
the family day.
With no interference or distractions of giving and receiving presents, my family of eleven would spend the day doing nothing, as we all burrowed within my mom and dad’s house while waiting for the Thanksgiving Day feast to be fully cooked and presented.
But by spending the day doing nothing, I mean, watching football together. Playing football together.
Drinking beer together. Making fun of each other together. Smiling together, and having a great day together.
On those Thanksgiving days more than any other day of the year, we…were…family.
And to me?
It was the greatest feeling in the world, especially when I was eight years old or so, and was stuck eating at the kids’ table, which happened to be a rickety red card table with discolorations and indentations resulting from years of spilled beers and fist poundings from my Uncle Eddie’s inability and lack of luck to draw to an inside straight.
It didn’t matter; it was family…And today, on this glorious day of Thanksgiving…
In spite of Schmoop’s health challenges, I will be putting aside my angst, nervousness, and worries as to how our future will unwind, and do nothing but cook, drink, and enjoy my family.
I will spend the day calling my immediate family. I will shoot my long-time friend Richard a call. I may talk to my beloved partner in crime and friend, Jayman. And I will of course…
Spend the day with my best friend of twelve years, Schmoop.
And a couple of things about Schmoop and I spending Thanksgiving together. We won’t be spending it alone.
You see, a friend of mine, a very sweet friend…one of my very best friends Miss, came through the Beer Mine the other night and dropped some things off for Schmoop and I to have for Thanksgiving.
It was inordinately generous, and I said to her,
“Miss, thank you so much, and I am sure I will thank you a hundred more times in the near future.”
Miss said to me,
“Don’t thank me. We are family. Family doesn't have to thank one and other.”
And she’s right. Although not related, she and I
have become family, because a deep and true friendship is like being family.
And that is how I feel about Miss, about Schmoop, about Jayman, and about a handful of my other friends.
And in spite of Schmoop’s bad turn, we have that family on which to fall, and rest, and chances are...many of you do as well.
And on this day of Thanksgiving, we need to take a second to realize that, and appreciate those who make life's slumber sound.
Cheers!!
mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws
I am headed back to the Beer Mine tomorrow after suffering through a case of busted ribs for over a week. 
