Thank You for All That’s Precious

Although portrayals of the original American Thanksgiving vary widely in accuracy and intent, wise people take the hint this time of year to celebrate their good fortune. Okay, lots of people don’t bother recalling points in life when their fortunes could’ve gone terribly wrong and didn’t. For them, Thanksgiving becomes yet another calendar obligation to satisfy the greed of corporate billionaires—especially grocery chains. Many grip grievances as old friends they never want to lose and drag them to family tables to sour the feast. Others assume they were owed good fortune for no particular reason they can cite honestly. Still others are certain there’s nothing fortunate about their lives at all—skipping the fact that they exist, of course, which opens a certain array of possibilities to investigation.

This week my husband and I watched a wonderful film on PBS that reminded us of the inestimable value of love. First, it reminded us of the majesty and frequent tragedy of reality that makes PBS unattractive to those who detest peering straight into the purifying light of truth. Second, it didn’t apologize for the honest sentimentality of romantic love. THE GREAT ESCAPER stars Michael Caine and Glenda Jackson (in her final role) in an expertly presented story based on truth. Bernie, a decorated 90 year-old Brit who survived WWII and the terrible carnage of D-Day, has procrastinated too long to be included in the organized groups traveling to France to commemorate the 70^th anniversary. Regardless, he carries a private regret that compels him to walk away from the British assisted living apartment he shares with his wife to address his secret on site. His wife isn’t well enough to accompany him, so he sets off alone with his walker to stand on the ferry to cross the Channel.

The assisted living facility panics when Bernie disappears without warning and eventually forces his wife to confess that he’s in France. When a nursing assistant protests that he’s 90, what’s he doing on his own in France? his wife replies wryly that he’s been there before, but then they were shooting at him. His story leaks out and the press has a field day, labeling him as “the great escaper.” As we watch Bernie with the multi-national veterans in France, we learn that he has no time for pomp or honor or publicity. In fact, he’s willing to pass along his seat reservations to German veterans who suffered the same hell he did. When he encounters them, he lends his quiet caring to veterans of any war who are suffering flashbacks as he is. Looking over a field of graves, he mutters, “What a waste.”

When he finally returns home, we see that Bernie’s wife has waited years for him to share his guilty secret, and when he does, she gently puts it into perspective for him. We had a glimpse of the hell she endured waiting to see if he lived through the war. Their love and survival are artifacts of good fortune that they can now recognize and celebrate. If we’re paying attention, they remind us that others have sacrificed and endured horrors we can barely imagine to preserve what was best about the normal lives they valued and the normal, peaceful lives we aspire to live. We’re part of a tapestry of history whether we like it or not. Our challenge is to discover what is actually most precious to us in our daily lives so we can preserve it if possible and be thankful for its presence.