My brother-in-law Mark has been doing something really neat on Facebook for the whole month of November- counting down to the 25th, Thanksgiving Day . . . by each day citing a different blessing for which he is thankful. It’s such a simple yet profoundly powerful idea, and I have made a point of not missing a single day of his Thanksgiving List. Most of the blessings on his list are the kind of general blessings that almost all of us enjoy (a safe home, good health) but even his blessings which are very specific to his particular life (like being thankful for his very capable assistant at Ruud Lighting) are worth reading and reflecting upon because they get the rest of us thinking about comparable blessings in our respective lives. What a fabulous idea, and an exercise which would do everyone a world of good.
(I’ve believed for a long time that the key to being Happy is being Grateful. The former is impossible without the latter.)
Alongside Mark’s inspiring cavalcade of blessings-for-which-he-is-thankful, I have also been thinking a lot about the well-worn phrase “my favorite things,” especially thanks to a certain woman named Oprah and her unprecedented double decker “Favorite Things” extravaganza in which she surprised not one but two studio audiences with a lavish array of gifts. It was quite the spectacle and I have to confess to enjoying the sight of grown women (and a tiny sprinkling of grown men- what’s with the gender unbalance on these favorite things shows?) screaming their heads off in the kind of ecstasy that is almost frightening. What made it all more heartwarming than it would otherwise be is that these two audiences were comprised of people who have done all kinds of good things in their lives, served their communities, etc. – making it a bit easier to rejoice in their good fortune.
Here’s the sermon. . . At one point during that second show, they came out of a commercial break with the Rodgers and Hammerstein song “My Favorite Things,” and Oprah started singing along with it in what felt like a fairly spontaneous move. What I suspect was not expected was how vociferously the audience began singing along- and at one point you could glimpse this look on Oprah’s face- the All-Time Champion Control Freak- of Whoa, I didn’t expect that. Not that it made her unhappy but it seemed to catch her off guard…. how much everyone in that audience knew that song well enough to sing along at the top of their lungs. It was a great moment.
But. . . It also got me thinking about what those lyrics talk about. Think about it: Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. . . bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. . . brown paper packages tied up with strings. . . cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudel. . . doorbells and sleighbells and schnitzel with noodles. . . wild geese that fly with the moon on their wing. . . etc. etc. This is not a song about living in the lap of luxury. This is not a song about the latest stupendous gadget from Apple or custom-designed jewelry laden with diamonds. This is a song about simple things, simple pleasures- the kind of things that we can so easily take for granted. And towards that end, I think Oprah’s show – for as laudable as it is – has no business going anywhere near Mr. Hammerstein’s lyrics, because this annual orgy of excess is about something else entirely. Not that it’s a bad thing- I think it’s a pretty cool thing- but it does not embody the appreciation of simple things that the song…. and this holiday….. should be about. In fact, think about who Maria sang that song to- it’s those von Trapp children who were surrounded by luxury yet not the least bit happy. . . at least not until Maria came along.
(By the way, I’m pretty sure Oprah would agree with these words that I’ve seen on greeting cards and plaques . . . The Best Things In Life Aren’t Things.)
Last night at church, Pastor Bremeier began his sermon by saying that he wanted to sing a song which he thinks is a beautiful embodiment of this holiday. He said it comes from an Austrian nun. . . and proceeded to sing “Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens. . . “ There was a ripple of delighted surprise through the congregation, and then he invited everyone to sing along with him – and they did. And what a beautiful sound filled that sanctuary, even though attendance was rather sparse. It felt like every person there was singing out joyously- and although things got a bit shaky as the song reached its last verse, by the time everyone reached the last phrases, everyone was singing in full force: When the Dog Bites, When the Bee Stings, When I’m Feeling Bad, I Simply Remember My Favorite Things and then I Don’t Feel So Bad!
As I’m peddling around the house this afternoon, trying to ready the house for the arrival of Kathy’s family in a couple of hours, I’m suddenly aware of – and grateful for – my sense of smell. Before this year, I think I would only have been grateful for the beautiful scents themselves. . . the candle Kathy has burning next to the stove, the turkey baking in the oven, the dressing mixture on the counter, etc. But earlier this year, I came to a new appreciation of our sense of smell after interviewing the author of “In Search of Smell” who wrote about her real life experience of losing her sense of smell. If you hear the story of someone who has lost that oft-neglected sense and the surprisingly painful trauma which such a loss represents, you are unlikely to take your sense of smell for granted ever again. That was actually the gist of the sermon last night – how all of those things listed in the Sound of Music song engage our senses in one way or another, and in some ways that song is more a celebration of our senses themselves than of the things around us which arouse those senses. So even if you don’t get to look out your window and see the Swiss Alps, you should still be grateful that you can see whatever is around you…. and hear it and smell it and taste it and feel it as well – and be grateful for more than the sights, but also for the seeing, and the hearing, and so on. And when it comes to my own favorite things this Thanksgiving, my list begins with these five simple yet wondrous “things” – our senses – without which none of the other things in this life would mean a thing.
pictured above: a beautiful fall scene at Petrifying Springs.