In case you missed this on Sunday, where we first mentioned it, the Poetry Foundation feature Eisha and I wrote has been posted. To read it, go here and click on “Lunchbox Poems.” We got a huge kick out of writing for the Poetry Foundation, and we hope you enjoy reading it, if you’re so inclined to do so.
I’m posting that particular lunchbox image just for Eisha, who I’m pretty sure was a Monkees fan as a wee one.
Eisha and I want to wish you all a happy Thanksgiving. I posted these words last year, but I’m sorry, they’re the most kickin’, most supreme thanksgiving words there could ever be. Maybe I’ll just post them every year, for that reason. These are the words of Thoreau, writing to H.G.O. Blake, once a Unitarian minister, in December of 1856:
“I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual. It is surprising how contented one can be with nothing definite — only a sense of existence. My breath is sweet to me. O how I laugh when I think of my vague indefinite riches. No run on my bank can drain it, for my wealth is not possession but enjoyment.
If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance, like flowers and sweet-scented herbs — is more elastic, starry, and immortal — that is your success.”
Now go and eat — like Harold — nine kinds of pie that you like best.