BACK before my daughter learned to read and wised up that I was shamelessly using her as column fodder, I could fill tons of space with tales of her growing up. Whew! It could've been worse
Now she wants me to knock it off because we are entering that phase when just about everything I do is embarrassing to her. She doesn't like to be the center of attention. She doesn't like the limelight. She doesn't need to be the focus of conversation.
It's really weird. And I have no idea where she gets it. Could she really be my offspring? Is she the product of some mutant gene that nullifies her essential Memmingerness - the blatant and insatiable craving for personal recognition and glory?
Whatever personality affliction this is, it doesn't come from my side of the family. Not that I can't be humble and self-deprecating. I can be the most humble and self-deprecating guy you ever saw. I can be the king of humble and self-deprecating behavior. We're talking world-class humble and more self-deprecating than just about anyone you can name, other than, like, Gandhi. (Although, they say Gandhi drank a cup of his own urine every day, which you'd have to admit is just a tad show-boaty.)
Anyway, I don't write much about her anymore. But I still remember the good old days when I exploited her cuteness to the hilt.
One of my favorite lines was when she was 4 and we asked her to name her favorite holidays. She said, "Halloween, Thank Goodness, Christmas and Disney World."
She was ahead of her time for recognizing that one day Disney World will indeed not only have a national holiday named after it, but will also have a seat on the United Nations Security Council.
I thought it was even more clever of her to turn "Thanksgiving" into "Thank Goodness."
Because, let's face it, this is the time of year when we are not so much thankful for all our blessings as relieved that we've just about made it through another year.
Tomorrow really is a time to let out a deep breath and say, "Thank Goodness!" When you line up all the things that happened to you that you are thankful for, vs. all the things that COULD have happened, the "could" line - the Thank Goodness line - is a lot longer.
It's a day to say "thank goodness" you don't weigh any more than you do; your credit cards haven't been canceled; your car only needed a couple of thousand dollars in repairs this year; your kids haven't joined a violent gang or become national scholarship nerds; and no one died from eating undercooked turkey at your house.
Sure, it's great to give thanks for all the little blessings you've received during the past year. But it's a lot more realistic to recognize all the bullets you've dodged.
You give thanks that you have your health, and say thank goodness you didn't get cancer of the eyeballs. You give thanks that your family is gathered 'round the dinner table, but you say thank goodness that the IRS
hasn't moved in on Uncle Harry's chinchilla farm/pyramid scheme yet.
See, it's just a slight difference in grammar, but a huge difference in philosophy.
I'm beginning to think we should just change the name of the holiday from "Thanksgiving" to "Whew!" Isn't that more of the way the Pilgrims probably felt when the Indians showed up to eat instead of fight?
So enjoy tomorrow. Hug your friends and family. Hold hands and say grace before a table spread with marvelous bounty. Then let out a deep breath, look toward the heavens and say, "Thank goodness."