We all complain. All the time. I complain about cheesy Realtors, unmotivated buyers, and Michigan, and you complain about your husband and your job. Stop lying. I heard you. We complain about our portfolios, our home values, our neighbors dog. My 94 year old grandma complains when it’s not sunny. Happy to be alive at 94? Nah, she’d rather curse the clouds. We’re a bunch of complainers, and together, a great nation of complainers. Or is it a nation of great complainers? But when you really calm down and reflect on it, we have it made. We have what everyone else wants. We have a beautiful life and, if not, we have the opportunity to make what we do have better. We’re lucky that we have Thanksgiving to give us a nice open handed slap across our spoiled puffy faces. We are blessed. Yes, some of us more than others. I have had a miserable year on many counts. Those who know me best know that this year hasn’t been my favorite of my 31 years. It’s been a trying time to be sure, yet when I look around, what a great life I lead. I have beautiful healthy children, a motivating fire that burns within me to succeed at a job that I love, and I’m able to raise my family in what I truly believe is the most ideal setting. And as my kids say, I drive around in my car and get paid for it.
As a kid, I’d roll my eyes when my dad would tell me how lucky I was to live in Williams Bay. He was proud of the life he was able to provide, and wanted his children to appreciate it as well. Unlike me, he knew what it was like to live elsewhere. His appreciation came from growing up in the vile industrial ghetto that is Arlington Heights (it’s a joke Arlington Heights, relax. I love 60004). When I drive my son Thomas to school in the morning, I find myself telling him the same thing. I want him to know how lucky he is to live here. He doesn’t know it now, but if he’s anything like his dad, he’ll realize it some day.
This Thanksgiving, remember how blessed we are to live where we are, and to lead the lives that we lead. Things are difficult for many of us right now, but when we remember the Declaration, no one promised us happiness. It’s the pusuit that we’re guaranteed. Enjoy your family, embrace glutony, and toast to a glass half full.