This Thanksgiving, I Am Thankful For My Stuff. Get Over It.
Yep. I am. Honestly. I am thankful for my possessions, for the things I own, for my “stuff.”
In the wake of the many catastrophic events that have occurred in the past several months, due to both natural and man-made disasters, I’ve come to realize how thankful I am for my “things.”
I know this sounds like a paradox. Especially at this time of year when we reflect upon what matters most in our lives, and give thanks. It is never the stuff we own, but rather the stuff you can’t buy – family, health, community, relationships – the stuff that matters most. Given the unimaginable loss that hundreds of thousands of people have suffered recently, both locally and nationally, you might think me insensitive. But let me explain.
Recently, I had the pleasure of working at a high school in Lawrence for the economically disadvantaged. The students, mostly Dominican, were the poorest of the poor and the kindest of the kind. I am not a teacher, so the best way I could get to know them was to leave a bowl of candy on my desk. Before I let them dive into the bowl, I interrogated them somewhat. I asked them to answer four questions, one of which was, “What are you thankful for?” This is what I consistently heard: “My parents. My family. My teachers. My school. My friends. The fact that I am being given an opportunity to go to college.”
Not a single possession was mentioned. Ever. One girl, who I can still see standing over my desk with her beautiful cappuccino-colored skin replied, “I am thankful for the roof over my head.”
I am quite certain it is not a fancy roof covering a fancy house and I hope she still has one after the recent Columbia Gas explosions that occurred in her neighborhood destroying several homes. The brother of Leonel Rondon, the boy who was killed by a chimney that came crashing down on the car in which he sat, is a student at that high school.
Unfortunately as one of the poorest cities in the state, Lawrence has very little to begin with; 26% of Lawrence residents live in poverty and the median household income is $36,000. Next door, 5% of North Andover residents live in poverty and the median household income is $100,000; 4% of Andover residents live in poverty and the median household income is $135,000.
As far as the local gas explosions, rich, poor, black, white, latino – nobody was left unscathed. Life turned on a dime for those residents in the Merrimack Valley on that sunny, second Thursday in September. As I write this blog post, seven weeks after the tragedy, hundreds of households still do not have heat, electricity or proper housing.
So when I’m having a bad day, I stop and tell myself, “Get over it!”
In October, Hurricane Michael hit the Florida panhandle. And it hit hard – much harder than expected, wreaking havoc, wiping out an entire beach community. In the blink of an eye, miles of oceanfront homes and businesses were decimated. Images of Mexico Beach were heartbreaking. Only one home stood, sitting on stilts, high above the sand along that beachfront, surrounded by the debris and remains of all the other homes that were leveled and in pieces. Thousands were left homeless. Their lives will never be the same and it will take them years to rebuild. Where do they begin? How do we really help?
Some lost every thing. Every thing you can put in a box.
And then there were the California fires. And the historic flooding in Texas. And Hurricane Florence in the Carolinas. When will Mother Nature back off? When will she give us a break? Over the past few months, whenever I would turn on the television and see those jaw dropping images, my eyes wide open, I would feel a little guilty that I occasionally whine when my day might not be going exactly as planned. But my bad days now seem to pale in comparison.
Like death and taxes, there is no escaping both the good times and bad, despite your economic bracket; the ups and downs; the joys and sorrows. But there are levels. Like all of us, I have experienced it all. And while the downs are not to be minimized, I honestly cannot say that I have had “bads,” “downs,” or “stressors,” that come close to that of any of those starting from scratch. I have not watched my house, my friends, my family, or my furry friends, float down a river, get washed out to sea, or get crushed beneath a building or a chimney. I have not needed to boil water to cook or to relax in a hot bath, stand in long and winding lines for food or gas, cook for six on a tiny hot plate, or sleep in the cold – for weeks on end.
So when I’m having a bad day, I stop and tell myself, “Get over it!”
As I write, my plumber is here fixing my boiler that is not behaving. It’s like a teenager – moody and unpredictable. My steam heating system turns on when it feels like it, and shuts off when it feels like it. Occasionally, my Fonzie move works. I gently punch the side of the boiler with my fist, and breathe a sigh of relief if I hear that sweet sound of the running motor and the hissing of the heaters once again. In about twelve minutes, the boiler shuts off again. Temps are predicted to approach freezing tonight. The plumber has determined the problem. Good. But he needs to order a part. Bad. So the boiler will not be fixed until tomorrow. Ugh. I tell myself it’s going to get very cold as the evening progresses. So I’ll need to don an extra pair of socks, extra fleece, a scarf, and two extra blankets. Poor me. I will be minorly inconvenienced for one night
I remind myself of our neighbors who haven’t had heat or electricity for weeks on end, many of whom are trying to stay warm with a single, small space heater, and it’s now November.
I stop and tell myself, “Get over it!”
This Thanksgiving, as I put things in perspective, I am also thankful for my possessions: for my temperamental boiler (at least I have partial heat); for my leaky bathroom faucet (at least I have clean, running water); for the hanging light over my sink (at least I have electricity); for my cell phone with an occasional spotty connection (at least I can still communicate); for my oven covered with sticky blueberry drippings from the pie I made last week (at least I have functional gas lines and can actually use my oven to bake). Yes, this year, I give thanks for my stuff because it affords me the most basic of comforts – like warmth, light, hot water, safety, shelter. Comforts that so many of our brothers and sisters have lost this past year.
Basic comforts certainly do matter, although we know they pale to those more heart warming such as experiences, friends, and community.
So yes, this year I am especially thankful for the roof over my head – even if it’s a little chilly under that roof. As well as the community around me. I’ve gotten over it!
What are you thankful for this Thanksgiving?
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Patty St. John made her way to the north shore of MA in 1998 when she began working at the Newburyport Chamber of Commerce. She worked there for 17 years promoting the local business community and has a deep fondness for all things greater Newburyport.
She has a small business called Simply Simplify where she helps people simplify their lives to have a more calm and peaceful space, free of clutter.
Patty lives in Amesbury and is an avid gardener, an amateur photographer, and an occasional blogger. She likes to ponder – and then write about it whenever the spirit moves her. You can follow her ponderings at www.pattyponders.com