I saw a sweet little movie with the title, “Happy, Thank You, More Please.” It tells three love stories in vignettes with quirky characters and novel circumstances. Nice. Not mainstream.
One of the characters, a beautiful woman with alopecia, (I said they were quirky) has an epiphany during a cab ride. The cabbie turns to her and, apropos of nothing in particular, says, “The universe is steeped in abundance of all good things. When you feel this, say, ‘Thank you; more please,’ and you will begin to experience more of the abundance.”
And then she does just that. She becomes more thankful, expresses it, asks for more, and receives it.
Now, I never had that epiphany. I hardly ever ride in cabs, for one thing. But I try to be conscious of and express my gratitude daily. I am thankful for so many things…and they just keep coming.
Just now I’m thankful for the view from my window as I write this column to you, Dear Reader. (I’m thankful for you too, by the way.) I can see the water of the Carquinez Strait made silver by the afternoon sun with clouds’ intervention. Any moment, a dazzling, golden, heavenly shaft of light might break through inviting spirits to soar. There is little wind, leaving the water to ripple as it does with a rising tide. Lovely.
My Burmese kitten Uma sleeps here on my desk. She’s a wheezer; so little squeaks match her rising chest on the inhale. I’m thankful she doesn’t wake up and pace back and forth across the keyboard as she often chooses to do while I write. I’m also thankful for my new, all-in-one touch screen computer on which she can cut and paste text with a brush of her furry little butt. She changes the font size and stands on the space bar when her Inner Kitty calls her to do so. I’m thankful that the IK rests quietly in the moment.
On vacation this week, my husband works just down the hall. He’s putting knobs on the doors and drawers of the cabinet he installed for me in the laundry room. He’s skilled, meticulous, and patient. His work is excellent and wherever you look in our home, you can see the improvements he’s made for us. Thanks Honey.
Our son is healthy and making his way in the world. Not as fast as we’d like. Not always in the direction we’d like. But in spite of his struggles and his side trips, his big heart, quick mind, generous spirit, and loving nature shine the brightest. Thank God for a good kid. Thank God.
Thank God for the US Congress. I don’t know why, exactly. I still hold out hope that somehow the rancorous spell of entrenchment will be lifted and their mission and selflessness will kick in. I say thank God for the Occupy movement. In spite of their foibles, they show us courage and call us to speak out. I guess I’m just glad, still and always, to be born and living in the United States of America.
I’m thankful that whenever I want I can drive my fine car to a grocery store, tantamount to Disneyland for a poor nation, and buy a fat turkey and fresh green beans. Thanks to my mom, gone since 1977, I can make savory stuffing and gravy without lumps. I’m grateful to be able to give a little bit to our food banks. So lucky to be on the giving side.
I’m thankful for and miss my Oklahoma family at Thanksgiving: My brothers so tall and handsome and smart and funny. Their beautiful wives. My niece and nephews so sweet and dear. My stepmother, our only surviving parent or grandparent.
My California in-laws are about the best a person could ask for. Compared with my raucous family, they seem quite reserved, even genteel. They’ve taken me in with such kindness. I am very thankful for that. Special thanks for my father-in-law, now 91 years old and precocious.
I’ve held onto childhood friends and find new friends to be revelations. Such mighty blessings!
And so to mark Thanksgiving, I say to the Universe: I’m happy, thank you. More please.