My father used to give the same Thanksgiving toast every year. Raising his glass, he simply said, “Thanks.”
I’m definitely my father’s daughter. Unable—or perhaps unwilling—to improve on this post, I have simply decided to run it every year at this time as a tribute to him, to all of you, and to making our lives count.
I love Thanksgiving, and not just because I get to feed those close to me. Unlike New Year’s, which prompts us to look ahead with resolutions, or the resolution not to make resolutions, Thanksgiving encourages us to be grateful for the gifts bestowed on us. Instead of evaluating our shortcomings or our ambitions, we can simply appreciate our lives, as well as whatever positive change the year gone by has brought. Which, hopefully, then prompts us to think ahead.
The paperweight on my desk reads, “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?” The question is my reminder to reach for what I truly aspire to, regardless of the chance of failure. Sometimes, it’s less about achieving than about trying.
When my best friend Linda Benesi was killed by a drunk driver while we were in our twenties, I vowed to live life for both of us. Perhaps that explains why I haven’t taken the easy route since. And yet every step—no matter how tough, no matter how seemingly disparate from the rest—has led me to where I am now. Like tributaries, the paths I have chosen have contributed to the river of what my life has become. They have allowed me to pursue horizons I never could have planned for, indeed never could have dreamed of. It has all worked out because even during those times of intense self-doubt, I remained true to myself, true to my gut.
And so this year, like my dad used to do, I will raise my glass and say, “Thanks.”
In the meantime, I want to express gratitude to all of you who help fill my life. To you, too, I say, “Thanks.”
