Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.


Just got back from Zuke’s house. Dinner was nice, it was a welcome first holiday here. After eating we played Cranium, at the request (or demand) of Zuke’s 9-year-old brother Nick. Zuke, Nobu, Amy and I were all on a team. We lost miserably, but it was still fun. Most of the people there weren’t American, so we tended to get the pop culture questions wrong. We tended to get most questions wrong, actually. You’d think with at least half a dozen chemists they’d get the science questions right, but no. No matter, it was quite enjoyable.

Thanksgiving is a good time. It does a body good to reflect on his life, what he has to be thankful for. The cynic in me says that Thanksgiving is just an excuse for the spirit of the have-nots to kick us in the stomach and force us to become guilt-ridden. Maybe, but it’s necessary. Without that kick every once in a while we lose touch with reality. Or, more accurately, reality becomes to narrowly confined to only what we know, instead of taking into the account the lives of other people. And besides, its not as if those less fortunate are asking for this to happen; it’s certainly not their fault. So I’ll take my kicks. I need them.

These thoughts on Thanksgiving came to me after my dad turned a short story about lunch with one of the secretaries in his office into a lesson about the meaning of giving thanks. He did it rather well, too, I must say. It was my kick in the stomach. It did what it was designed to: made me think. For this I am thankful.

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