BLESSINGS OF THANKSGIVING

 

 "My Thanksgiving is perpetual. It is surprising how contented one can be with nothing definite — only a sense of existence.” –-- Henry David Thoreau

 

In this Covid-19 world, there might some might think there is little to be grateful for. After all, we are amid a surging worldwide pandemic. The death toll continues to mount at staggering 244,00 Americans, which health experts say could double by spring. The economic numbers are just as bad, with millions of unemployed Americans as governors and mayors across the U.S. are ratcheting up restrictions in the onslaught of the virus resurgence.
I reflect on those who have died and those who have fought to survive while being sick. I think about the overwhelmed healthcare providers and the ordinary people who are struggling without paychecks.

That is what was crossing my mind as I took a quiet morning paddle along a stretch of the American River just last weekend. It was a brilliant California mid-fall day with not a cloud in the sky. Storms would be bringing rain and snow in the week ahead. But that day provided an unusual view of the glistening Sierra Nevada Mountains to the east.
The customary array of waterfowl joined on the water. Big Canadian geese with blackheads and white cheeks come begging for food in the Sailor Bar lagoon, while white and grey seagulls canvass the shallows of the river. A blueish-grey great blue heron stands motionless on one leg at the water's edge while a small brood of merganser race by across the water. The dashing male wood duck with his intricate plumage of a green head and brown has caught the eye of two females, who look a little drab next to their male counterparts. Along the rocks of the shore, one small sandpiper hops along the rocks while soaring up above the half dozen turkey vultures circle in the sky.

 
A deer followed by another come out to the river's edge. Curiously both study me, till they decide, I'm a bit too close for their comfort, and they wandered back into the brush.
In the shallows, I catch sight of Chinook salmon migrating back home to spawn. I ponder the journey they have made after wandering huge distances in the ocean for several years only to swim back upstream to their original birthplace. Scientists have various theories about how this happens. Some believe that salmon navigate by using the earth’s magnetic field as a compass. Others suggest chemical cues that they can smell to find their way back to their home stream.

Like the salmon, we are pulled back to thoughts of home at Thanksgiving.
“There is one day that is ours. There is one day when all we Americans who are not self-made go back to the old home to eat saleratus biscuits and marvel how much nearer to the porch the old pump looks than it used to," wrote writer O. Henry.
Certainly, Covid-19 and some newly placed restrictions might make being home for traditional Thanksgiving gatherings hard for some of us to navigate this year. But we still shouldn't lose perspective of being thankful for what we have, even in these Covid times. As writer Charles Dickens wrote, “Reflect upon your present blessings, of which every man has plenty; not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”

So on this Thanksgiving, I plan on making a few phone calls to my parents and having a few video chats with my children to see my new granddaughters that were both born this year. Madilyn came in the spring, while KDK arrived in the fall. Both are beautiful, healthy babies making both my wife and I very proud and grateful grandparents.
And maybe after a nice dinner, I will spend some time on the river to reflect on all the things, big and small, that I'm thankful for.

Keep up with Outside Adventure to the Max, on our Facebook page and Instagram and now on Youtube.