Today we consume some 50 million turkeys who kindly dedicated themselves to sating our appetites as we try to decide whether we have very much to be thankful for. It turns out we do. And not only for the traditional blessings of freedom and the rule of law. Or the mixed blessing of families reunited by the return to the nest of unemployed sons and daughters, unable to pay their own way. Or steady increases in longevity as more and more diseases are conquered by the health care system our president is convinced is in need of radical reform. In three unrelated events this week my wife and I met with a 90-year old publisher, a 90-year old social scientist, and a 90-year old historian, all active, all sharp. Ninety is the new 60.
Most of all, as Peggy Noonan pointed out in the Wall Street Journal, we are thankful that, in the words of the ageing showgirl in Stephen Sondheim’s musical, “Follies,” we’re still here. She warbles, “Good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all, my dear I’m still here.” So are we.
