Changing, and not so changing, times

Tonight while thinking of the things I'm most thankful for, I remembered an old personal essay written almost ten years ago. Pulled it out, dusted it off, and posted it here (below).

It's funny. When I wrote Festival of Plenty, things looked different. For one thing, TCU couldn't buy a win for all the money in the world. This year? Wow. How times have changed!

And yet not. Because TCU fans still talk about recipes and kids and grandkids and new projects. We still love our Frogs, but everything in moderation. For the most part, those of us wearing LT's #5 or Don't Back Down love the people we're with more than the game. Although we do love our football.

When I wrote Festival of Plenty, my mom was still in great health. She worked in her yard, went for vigorous aerobic hikes, and could beat me easily at Canasta.

These days, she cannot subtract 7 from 100 and come up with the right answer. She stays in bed most of the day, uninterested in life (sometimes I fear she wishes to die), her dementia and related psychosis having robbed our family of the person we cherished. Leaving behind a mere shell of a body.

When I wrote Festival of Plenty, we lived in Pennsylvania. With four distinct seasons, mountains of snow, and 400+ years of history. These days, we're in California, with gorgeous beaches, sun-drenched days, and places that still have that new car smell.

When I wrote Festival of Plenty, our White Rose work was in its infancy. Now, we're all steeped in the story, wiser about the people we write about, and perhaps a touch cynical about the historical revisionism the story is steeped in - something we were blissfully unaware of at the time.

In 2000, we were surer of the future, surer of faith, surer of foot, surer of goal. And unsure about direction and purpose. As we approach Thanksgiving 2009, we are surer of direction, purpose, and friends who will get us there, and less sure of the future and faith.

And yet that concluding statement still rings true, as true today as it was on a chilly, colorful Thanksgiving day in Pennsylvania:

Thankful to be alive – despite stress, disappointment, sickness, sorrow, and all that makes me sad – thankful for bubblegum and vanilla ice cream, Rabbi and Mom, books and poetry, April and December. And thankful to the God who makes it Be.