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What are you thankful for?

I’m going to be taking the rest of the day off to cook, to eat, and to be with friends and family. Before I go, I’d like to start an open thread in which we all list the things we are in particular thankful for today. If I started to list all of mine, I’d […]

I’m going to be taking the rest of the day off to cook, to eat, and to be with friends and family. Before I go, I’d like to start an open thread in which we all list the things we are in particular thankful for today. If I started to list all of mine, I’d be here all day. Here’s a short list, in no hierarchical order:

The opportunity to write for TAC. I am never short of words for anything, but I am this morning, in trying to articulate how much it means to me to have been able to return to full-time writing. I’m not going to name names because I don’t want to embarrass folks, but the people on the business and editorial side of the magazine, and the donors whose generosity made it possible for me to return to writing, have my unending gratitude.

The life my sister led. This is the first Thanksgiving without my sister Ruthie, who died of cancer in September. I give thanks for the life she led — for her exemplary kindness, for her fidelity, and for her grace under pressure.

The community that helped my family. I have written at length about the goodness of the people  — see here and here, for example — of St. Francisville and the surrounding area who walked with Ruthie, her husband Mike and kids, and my mom and dad throughout this cancer, and in the aftermath of her death. Really, this is what it means to live, and to love, as people should. I especially thank Dr. Tim Lindsey, who made a house call to take care of Mike when the limb knocked him off the ladder this week, causing Mike to break his leg. Hell of a year that poor man has had.

My Philadelphia friends. Three weeks from yesterday, we’ll leave Philly. Today, I’m thinking especially about all the good friends we’ve made here, and how sorry I am to leave them. I’m grateful for their friendship, which will not end just because we’re moving away. For that matter, I’m grateful to have had two years in one of the most beautiful parts of America. And for four actual seasons in a year. And for all the great beer around here — from the craft brewers at Yards and Victory, to the pubs in Center City that serve Belgian beers, in particular the most god-like of all beers in my personal pantheon, lambic. Sour beer is a glorious thing. If you’ve never had it, oh boy, you’re missing out.

America. Living in Philadelphia and homeschooling the kids has caused me to pay more attention to the details of Revolutionary War history. Literally, a stone’s throw from where I sit writing this, Gen. Washington and his beaten Continentals retreated from the Battle of Germantown, the first leg of what ended up being their march to Valley Forge, and that cruel winter. When you get into the weeds of Revolutionary War history, and realize how easily things could have gone disastrously wrong for us, you cannot help but be grateful to Providence for the patriots’ victory. And when you’ve lived through a cold winter here, and you have been to the site of the Valley Forge encampment, the intensity of the Continentals’ suffering, and the miracle of their endurance, becomes more manifest in one’s imagination.

Of course, had the British won, it might be easier today to find proper scones and clotted cream around here. So there’s that.

France. Just because. Don’t hassle me here, jack. Jacques. Qu’est-ce que whatever. I’m looking at the bottles of Beaune I’ve laid out for later today, and reflecting on the Gopnik book, which I’m thoroughly enjoying, and thinking, “God bless France.” Which brings me to…

Moore Bros. Which has kept me in good wine (and therefore happiness) these past two years, and which introduced me to good wines I never would have found otherwise (I’m looking at you, Riesling; who knew you could be so deliciously dry?)

OK, enough. I have work to do in the kitchen. Open thread.

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