For many years now, November has been a month I associate with giving thanks.  Most likely it’s a remnant from when I  was Stateside. It’s a massive holiday over there; for many, it’s even bigger than Christmas. And it’s not just an American holiday.

‘Thanksgiving is a national holiday celebrated on various dates in October and November in the United States, Canada, Saint Lucia, Liberia, and unofficially in countries like Brazil, Germany and the Philippines. It is also observed in the Dutch town of Leiden and the Australian territory of Norfolk Island.’

In the USA, though, there’s a long history attached to the fourth Thursday of November. The modern celebration began in 1863, with links to the 1621 Pilgrims Harvest Festival being made since the late 19th century.

But it’s not an all-American holiday either. For some Native Americans, it is a day of mourning.

I’ve given up trying to find a small turkey in November in Hungary – our helpful butcher said he could me get one in time, but it’d be 17 kg. I simply don’t have enough oven. I’ll order ahead for Christmas and save the tryptophan till then.

This Thanksgiving, instead of eating myself silly, I’m going to make a renewed effort, not only be grateful, but to express my gratitude.

More than 20 years ago, I worked with this very bubbly young American girl in London whom I avoided like the plague in the mornings. I just couldn’t handle her effervescence; I liked mine soluble, in tablet form. Working late one evening, we were chatting about much of nothing when she told me that every night before she went to sleep, she tried to think of ten things that had happened that day for which she could be thankful. And some nights she fell asleep before she reached No. 10.

She challenged me to try it.

I did.

And I still do.

My nightly lists will never be published as a miscellany. They range from the ridiculous (I am grateful that I noticed my skirt was tucked into my tights before I walked out of the bathroom) to the sublime (I am grateful to Jack at Bor2Door for introducing me to the phenomenon that is white merlot), chalking them up each night has become a ritual and as close to meditation as I can get.

Needing even more discipline, in 2012 I started writing a weekly Grateful blog. I realised that gratitude, the art of giving thanks (and it is an art), takes work.

And practice.

The pull of social media and the ills and woes of our society are so great that it is often easier to simply not take the time.

But its value has been clinically proven. The studies are there.

For instance, a 2023 paper in the Brazilian journal, Einstein, published on Pub Med, about a meta-analysis of 64 randomised clinical trials, concluded that ‘patients who underwent gratitude interventions experienced greater feelings of gratitude, better mental health, and fewer symptoms of anxiety and depression. Moreover, they experienced other benefits such as a more positive mood and emotions.’

What would our world be like if more people took the time to say thanks. To say thanks for the little things that make life worth living. To say thanks to the people in our lives who make us smile. To say thanks to karma for making sure that all wrongs are righted.

On the train a while back, I noticed a mother and her young daughter (to my untrained eye, she looked about 10 – the daughter, not the mother). Both were reading real books. Real in the sense that they were made of paper and didn’t need to be charged.

I was fascinated.

Ten years ago, this would have been a common enough sight – but tried as I might, I couldn’t recall when I’d last seen two generations, side by side, reading. In public.

It was lovely.

I got off a stop before them.

As I passed, I stopped and thanked them both, saying how lovely it was to see them so connected while disconnected.

Weeks later, when I think of them, I still smile.

These days, it’s way too easy to let go and submerge myself in the despair of 21st-century living. I’ve noticed an increased number of connections debating whether to turn off their newsfeeds or retire their social media accounts. I’m having similar conversations with myself.

The mood of the moment seems to be one of attack. The most innocuous post can attract a litany of base, puerile comments (often made by non-human bots, not that this does much to dilute the nastiness).

The world is losing its manners.

Polarity is unpicking familial seams and pitting friend against friend, neighbour against neighbour. Common courtesy is in danger of extinction.

As we run the risk of retreating into echo chambers and losing touch completely with those who stand for everything we do not, the world grows wearier by the day.

Rather than doing the shoulda-woulda-coulda dance and looking for someone or something to blame for where we’re at, what if we resolved to say thank you to someone we’d normally not thank for something we’d usually take for granted? This month, try it for yourself and see how much better you feel. You’ve nothing to lose.

As Bob Dylan’s dad said: ‘Even if you don’t have all the things you want, be grateful for the things you don’t have that you don’t want.’

To my American friends and readers, wherever you are, Happy Thanksgiving.

First published in the Budapest Times 23 November 2024

PS. It was French philosopher Jacques Maritain who called gratitude the most exquisite form of courtesy.