What should we be thankful for this year?

Short-sighted or downright moronic is the person who, because of our national tragedies, fears, headaches and heartaches, querulously asks, "What have we to be thankful for this year?"

I'd like to take such a one by the collar and mesmerize him/her as did the ancient mariner when detaining a young man on his way to a wedding feast.

I'd not be as poetic as Coleridge, but would shake and shame such a questioner in every way I could and demand, probably stutteringly and slobberingly, "What do you have to be thankful for?"

Then, calming down, I'd let loose a little hold on the collar and give a litany of things to be thankful for.

First, life itself. Beautiful, beautiful life on any terms.

When that little sperm met that little egg, voila! you were on your way, a miracle it is still hard for the mind to wrap itself around.

If you survived wombhood, you entered the world with all senses to be honed, developed and enjoyed. And, in my way of thinking, eligible for life eternal.

Be thankful for your American heritage, either native or by choice. Suppose the Pilgrims were weaker than they were, hadn't made it through the days leading up to what we recognize as the first Thanksgiving?

What if there hadn't been a Washington for Valley Forge? No Lincoln for Gettysburg? No Wright Brothers, Mark Twain, Stephen Foster?

Citing these old heroes seems as if I'm referring to some long-ago age in history, back of Sept. 11, 2001, a great dividing point in time. Who should we cite on this side of that date? George W. Bush? Colin Powell? Billy Graham?

My conclusion: Every person that has ever lived touches our lives in some way. Because all of it together, the good and the bad, still adds up to what we call good, we can give hardy thanks.

And freedom! Be thankful for freedom. Now that we are under a different kind of siege, freedom beams in fluorescent light. We who have always lived under freedom can hardly grasp what it would be like not to have it.

Would it help us to understand it more fully if, when we awakened of a morning, we dared not to thank God for the gift of another day for fear someone might hear us and report us to some authorities in power who had forbidden such things? And how would it be to go off to work at something you didn't want to but someone said that you must? And, on payday, exchange our money for commodities they said we could have? You see, I know so little about not being free I can't even write well about it.

All that I know is that each morning when I get up I am free to say anything I want to, go anywhere I want to. For this I am deeply and everlastingly thankful.

And then there are all the little things -- the smile of someone you meet on the sidewalk. Someone you don't even know, but whose expression says, "All is well. Have a happy day."

There are, of course, my legendary squirrels who entertain me day by day.

Yesterday a bluejay landed on a railing right outside my window. He was dressed in his new feathers, bright and shiny. He saw me on the other side of the window, cocked his head first one way then the other and hopped closer. We "visited" for a long time until he had other things to do.

There's Puffy, the pretty cat I visit from time to time, along with his owners. Long, soft hair, beautiful eyes but very cat-like in his aloofness.

These little living things bring me back to the ancient mariner who, in spite of his tale of woe, concluded with these familiar words:

He prayeth best who loveth best

All things both great and small;

For the dear God who loveth us,

He made and loveth all.

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.