You wake up and time has slipped way.
Indeed it has, and does.
With another Thanksgiving is upon us, I thought of that Paul Anka lyric from his song ‘Times of Our Lives’. Of course, the older set (which I’m a card-carrying member) might recall it being played on the Kodak commercials, peddling the sale of film—a now obsolete technology and a once mighty company that fell victim to the rise of digital photography.
But the message of the commercial, while used to boost sales, was also about the bittersweet passage of the years and using pictures to capture and thus, in some manner, preserve our memories. Hence, another lyric in the song Do you remember the times of your life?
Since the last holiday we’ve lost a grandson and two of my cousins on the Horton side. Empty chairs at the table we once shared.
But within the same time frame we celebrated the first birthday of our youngest granddaughter and welcomed two great-granddaughters.
The joys of life and living, couple with the inevitable sorrows.
I would venture to guess that most writers—or at least newspaper columnists— harbor a secret ambition to write a piece that becomes part of the holiday canon. As the editor of The Sun did in 1897 when he received a letter from eight-year-old Virginia O’Hanlon asking if Santa Claus was real and responded with an editorial in that New York City daily declaring “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.” Or as O. Henry did with his short story ‘Gift of the Magi.’
I’ve produced a couple of columns, both written on Christmas Eve, that I thought were noteworthy for their sentiment and theme, along with style of delivery, although neither seem in danger of becoming the printed version of ‘White Christmas.’
But then trying to create something that will be regarded as ‘a classic’ is a fool’s errand. The best newspaper columns, essays, and short fiction seem to spring from the time and place as well as circumstances that inspired them, with no intent to be anything other than that day’s offering. The product of a craftsman doing his or her craft, earning their daily bread. Yet they possess a timeless quality, transcending those physical qualities, and continue to have meaning and influence; still manage to touch both the minds and hearts of readers through the passing years.
I thought of writing about the loss of my grandson and cousins, and the empty chairs they once occupied at the family Thanksgiving dinner—the cousins in our youthful days at our grandparents’ place and the grandson in more recent years when he came to our home. It would include my memories of them, along with the slipping away of time (my time anyway). But I guess I’m not quite ready. The muse hasn’t gotten things sorted out in a satisfactory fashion.
What I’ll offer instead is a column I wrote in 2018.
* * *
No regrets…a few Thanksgiving thoughts
In August 2017, Charles Krauthammer—a columnist with the Washington Post and regular contributor on Fox News—underwent surgery to remove a cancerous tumor in his abdomen. Initially, the operation was thought to be a success, but complications kept him in the hospital. Despite “many setbacks” and “overcoming every obstacle along the way,” he felt he was on the road to recovery.
Age 67, he likely planned to resume his writing and television appearances.
But the cancer returned. It was “aggressive and spreading rapidly,” and Krauthammer was told he only had a few weeks left to live.
Faced with this grim prognosis, he penned a final column that was published in the Washington Post this past June 8th. It was entitled “Saying farewell to my readers, my life.”
In the column, he gave the above chronology of his past 10 months and, after telling readers he would soon die, added that “This is the final verdict. My fight is over.”
So, what more to say? Having written thousands of words over his career—not to mention the spoken ones— he summed it up with a few, well-chosen thoughts.
“Lastly, I thank my colleagues, my readers, and my viewers, who have made my career possible and given consequence to my life's work. I believe that the pursuit of truth and right ideas through honest debate and rigorous argument is a noble undertaking. I am grateful to have played a small role in the conversations that have helped guide this extraordinary nation's destiny.
“I leave this life with no regrets. It was a wonderful life -- full and complete with the great loves and great endeavors that make it worth living. I am sad to leave, but I leave with the knowledge that I lived the life that I intended.”
Charles Krauthammer died on June 20 (2018)—less than three weeks after offering this farewell.
I CAME ACROSS THE COLUMN THIS PAST WEEK while perusing the internet. I was aware he had passed away and read about it in a news article, but (until a few days ago) had not seen this article.
I’d read his newspaper columns on occasion over the years, and watched him on TV. I found him to be measured and thoughtful in his comments. Not a shouter or table thumper. I did not always agree with his views, but felt them worthy of consideration.
For those who are unfamiliar with him, he morphed from working in the Carter Administration and being Walter Mondale’s speech writer to becoming an articulate commentator of conservative views and policies—hence his involvement on Fox News. His Washington Post column was syndicated and appeared in over 400 newspapers, so he had thousands of readers who followed him.
On a personal note, he was paralyzed from the waist down, having suffered a spinal injury while in college.
I was moved by that ending… “No regrets. It was a wonderful life.”
On Thanksgiving, this holiday that brings the traditions of the past to our present-day hustle and bustle; that allows us to pause, reflect, remember, and give thanks, the sentiment seems an appropriate one.
Few of us get the chance to say “farewell” to a national audience. Many of us—young, middle-aged, or old—will not know the time or place of our final verdict. But there are countless others, a few we may know and others across the nation, who are well aware that this will be their last Thanksgiving; their final opportunity to share the holiday with loved ones.
A bittersweet moment for them and for those gathered with them.
For those of us of a certain age—meaning we’ve enjoyed quite a few turkey dinners—there are the many memories spanning the years of all who once shared the meal and holiday with us—parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins, classmates, and friends. And, tragically, children and grandchildren. For the loss of those who died at too young of an age, there are regrets.
On this Thanksgiving morning, as I look back at my past and as I take measure of current circumstances and wonder what lies ahead, I can echo Krauthammer’s words.
I’ve got no complaints. Like others, I’ve my had ups and downs, wins and losses, bumps and bruises, moments of satisfaction, regrets and successes, loves and sorrows. That’s life.
Looking back, along with taking measure of current circumstances, I’ve been blessed with family and friends, with a career I enjoy, and with the opportunity to write newspaper columns that a few people (on occasion) appear to read. Whether they agree with my viewpoints or not, at least I’ve been able to join the conversation.
I’m thankful as well that once more I’m able “to gather together with family to count the Lord’s blessings” on this special holiday.
My best wishes and warmest regards to all of you.
Steve Horton is a mid-Michigan journalist and editor-publisher of the ‘Fowlerville News & Views.’
(Note to Readers: If you like what I write on this website, please share. It’s probably my best means of adding others to the subscription list. Thanks to all for reading my articles and to those who have responded. Feedback is the mother’s milk to a writer. Take Care, Steve Horton.)
Enjoyed this article Steve. It made me think quite a bit. And what’s more traditional for us Mi folk than Lions football.
No family here today but loved the face chat with them all
Happy Thanksgiving.
Seems right and traditional like the parade to read a piece like this on this American holiday and I am glad of the chance to do just that. thank you.