The older I get the more I realize that every story is a survivor story. I was walking with a friend today and he mentioned the time he was standing behind a donkey and it kicked him. Only he jumped out of the way just enough that the kick went right between his legs, and not his family jewels.
So for me, the center of my thankfulness is the appreciation of near-misses. I think Winston Churchill said that nothing is so exhilarating as being shot at without effect. Maybe so, although I would salt his remark with the old saw about the three stages of war experience. First you that it's never going to happen to you; then you accept that it is going to happen to you; finally you ask why it hasn't happened to you.
Never mind the question of deserts; that way lies what we now call mental-health problems and used to call madness.
The two most obvious dodges with death for me occurred to my parents: my father successfully getting out of Russia in 1918 and dodging the Germans on the way out, and my mother getting out of Japan in 1940.
I am deeply conscious and thankful that things did not go the other way, so that I would not be here. Of course, I was doubly blessed because I never doubted for a moment that both my parents loved me. I am sure that is a priceless gift, although it is for me just the way it was.
I have only defied death once in my life, when I was flying a primary glider as a teenager and they gave me an extra pull on the bungee cord and I stalled the glider and came down with a bump. I remember thinking quite coolly that this might be "it" for me, what Bugs Bunny calls "coi-tuns." But everything turned out all right, except that the glider was a bit bent after the landing.
Otherwise my life has been "nominal" as they used to say at NASA: the love of women, two amazing daughters, six thriving grandchildren, and a life remarkably free of employment and health problems.
A lot to be thankful for.
And a lot more: to have the fortune and the opportunity to come to the United States, the most remarkable country in all history, and to have experienced nothing but kindness from the world. (Well, there was a guy once that called me a racist, but hey...)
We are, of course, living in the most remarkable era in all history, the abrupt transition out of the agricultural age and its slavery into an age of unimaginable ease and prosperity.
The only thing that bothers me is that the billionaires won't have got us to Mars in my lifetime. I would be interested to see what the economics of interplanetary and interstellar life will be. Will humans escape the gravity well and live up among the stars or will we leave it to the machines?
This is a time when everyone is complaining about the "other" and quaking with fear that the other guys will bring down the end of civilization as we know it. No doubt, but the last 25 years has lifted a billion people out of extreme poverty.
Well, once we get out of absolute poverty we humans start to worry about relative poverty. And when we no longer have to worry about a bad harvest starving us all to death we start to worry about greenhouse gases heating us all to death.
Of course we do, and what gets us up in the morning is the need to go and work in the garden.
So for me, the center of my thankfulness is the appreciation of near-misses. I think Winston Churchill said that nothing is so exhilarating as being shot at without effect. Maybe so, although I would salt his remark with the old saw about the three stages of war experience. First you that it's never going to happen to you; then you accept that it is going to happen to you; finally you ask why it hasn't happened to you.
Never mind the question of deserts; that way lies what we now call mental-health problems and used to call madness.
The two most obvious dodges with death for me occurred to my parents: my father successfully getting out of Russia in 1918 and dodging the Germans on the way out, and my mother getting out of Japan in 1940.
I am deeply conscious and thankful that things did not go the other way, so that I would not be here. Of course, I was doubly blessed because I never doubted for a moment that both my parents loved me. I am sure that is a priceless gift, although it is for me just the way it was.
I have only defied death once in my life, when I was flying a primary glider as a teenager and they gave me an extra pull on the bungee cord and I stalled the glider and came down with a bump. I remember thinking quite coolly that this might be "it" for me, what Bugs Bunny calls "coi-tuns." But everything turned out all right, except that the glider was a bit bent after the landing.
Otherwise my life has been "nominal" as they used to say at NASA: the love of women, two amazing daughters, six thriving grandchildren, and a life remarkably free of employment and health problems.
A lot to be thankful for.
And a lot more: to have the fortune and the opportunity to come to the United States, the most remarkable country in all history, and to have experienced nothing but kindness from the world. (Well, there was a guy once that called me a racist, but hey...)
We are, of course, living in the most remarkable era in all history, the abrupt transition out of the agricultural age and its slavery into an age of unimaginable ease and prosperity.
The only thing that bothers me is that the billionaires won't have got us to Mars in my lifetime. I would be interested to see what the economics of interplanetary and interstellar life will be. Will humans escape the gravity well and live up among the stars or will we leave it to the machines?
This is a time when everyone is complaining about the "other" and quaking with fear that the other guys will bring down the end of civilization as we know it. No doubt, but the last 25 years has lifted a billion people out of extreme poverty.
Well, once we get out of absolute poverty we humans start to worry about relative poverty. And when we no longer have to worry about a bad harvest starving us all to death we start to worry about greenhouse gases heating us all to death.
Of course we do, and what gets us up in the morning is the need to go and work in the garden.
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