Thanksgiving this year finds us in the swirling of a turbulent time. Regardless of political leanings, most people I've spoken to appear to be stumbling around somewhere between the stupor of despair and a state of anxious apprehension. Even the most hopeful among us seem to be managing down their expectations to levels better characterized by caution than optimism.
With this as an emotional foundation, it's hard to muster much enthusiasm, let alone enough to build a
sense of gratitude. What does that mean for us as we head into our family gatherings to share our thankfulness? I'm not sure. The outlook feels tenuous and murky. And it feels like we're grasping for meaning, for stability, for certainty. And now it's Thanksgiving, a uniquely American tradition of community. This time of year epitomizes what it means to be American, even if that seems more elusive than ever. But we can, and ought to do more than flail for a mooring.
Maybe what we should be grasping for is one another, for our commonalities, for our identities within this one human family. Instead of rolling up our cuffs with talk of the election, perhaps for a moment we can shine a light on the values we all agree on: hospitality, generosity, good will, good humor, and, yes, good drink.
Unorthodox as it is to offer this kind of a suggestion, there's never been a more appropriate or timely opportunity. Larceny Bourbon ($28) from the Old Fitzgerald Distillery in Bardstown, Kentucky is a plenty affordable, particularly given the drinking pleasure it yields. Warming, potent (92 proof), and as friendly as an old, worn sweater, it is my antidote for an unsettled soul this fall. Taken in moderation, you, too, may find that it helps increase your ease of being during the holidays. And it certainly is in keeping with my tradition of sticking with enjoying American product on this American holiday.
Whatever you choose to drink (or abstain from) this Thanksgiving, please do it safely and with warmth in your heart. I'm counting on you.