What We’re Grateful For

It takes about five minutes of searching the internet to find revisionist histories of the first Thanksgiving. To celebrate their first successful harvest in 1621, the Pilgrims did have a feast, we are told, but it was a small one, and they never bothered to invite the Wampanoag, the Massachusetts tribe that had helped them survive that first year. (They apparently showed up anyway.)

But does it really matter if I think the origin story is more myth than fact? What matters, I think, is that America, unique among countries, puts aside one day a year for its citizens to offer thanks for all that we have been given. It’s only fitting that Thanksgiving was decreed a national holiday by our greatest president, Abraham Lincoln, who hoped that it would heal our divided country.

I know there are people, in the divided nation we now live in, who no longer share a Thanksgiving meal with relatives with different political views. How sad. We are so lucky to have Thanksgiving, to interrupt our hurried lives, to hold hands with people we love around a dinner table as we put our heads down for a moment of prayer, and to reflect on our good fortune, in whatever form that takes for each of us. Thanksgiving Day is a privilege we should never take for granted.

What follows are some short reflections from members of The Free Press staff and our contributors. But allow me first to offer mine. I am a 72-year-old man with a 14-year-old son. He and I both share a love of tennis, and he has become a pretty good player. I clear my schedule when he has a tournament, so I can watch him play; it’s one of the ways we bond.

But it’s more than that. Watching him play, no matter whether he wins or loses, fills me with an unadulterated joy that can overwhelm me. It is a wonderful, unexpected late-life gift. And though I hope I will be able to watch him play for many years, who can say if that will be the case? He may wake up one day and decide he is no longer interested in tennis. And at my age, I have to be realistic: The day may come when I am no longer around to enjoy the gift my son is now giving me. Am I thankful to have this shared experience with him now? I am, deeply. And someday, thinking back years from now, he might be too.

Here’s to your reflections on this most American of holidays. Happy Thanksgiving.

Suzy Weiss, reporter

I am very grateful to my mother. Minutes after I arrived home in Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving, there was a blanket draped around my shoulders—reader, it will be there all week—and a little bissel, as she calls it, of white wine in my hand; reader, it will be there all week. This morning I got a “tour de soups” in the fridge. I went with chicken orzo. Tomorrow we trawl the vintage shops in town until my dad notices we’re gone, and play with my nieces and nephews, her grandchildren, until the meltdown period begins right before bedtime, at which point they are no longer our monkeys nor our circus. I could spend indefinite time with my mom, and I love her past telling.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali, contributor

I am extremely grateful for the decisive election result earlier this month. Many of us were dreading the chaos that maybe could ensue if the election turned out to be too close to call. It was therefore a huge relief on November 6 to find that we wouldn’t embark on recounts, litigation, and possibly worse. We can celebrate Thanksgiving knowing that January will bring a smooth and orderly transfer of power.

River Page, reporter

I am grateful for my body, which is in good health despite a lifetime of abuse. Regarding that abuse, there are many other things to be grateful for: the way the morning’s first cigarette hits the back of your throat, the crisp taste of a cold Diet Coke, a Culver’s ButterBurger. I’m grateful for Ozempic. I’m not on it, but it’s nice knowing the option is there.

I’m a man of simple pleasures. I’m thankful that you don’t have to watch commercials on TV anymore. When I visit Boomer relatives who still have cable, I see them watching a bit of programming between the hours and hours of commercials. They pay to watch ads. Can you imagine?

I’m grateful for dishwashers. I once lived in an apartment without one, and it destroyed my life.

I am grateful for the great state of Florida: a decadent swamp kingdom of white-trash excess winking and nodding behind a veneer of social conservatism. The truth is nobody here really cares what you do. You can vape in Publix, they won’t say anything. I am grateful to live in a part of the state still mostly untouched by the sweaty, tax-fleeing hands of the Yankee carpetbagger, who makes everything he touches expensive. My rent is still $1,200, and I am thankful for that.

I am thankful for my long-suffering editor Freya Sanders—the best I’ve ever had—and to you, the readers, who pay my bills and the dental insurance I keep forgetting to use. Happy Thanksgiving.

Abigail Shrier, contributing editor

I’m grateful that my parents raised me without too many choices. They informed me of what was right, what was wrong, what our religion was. They made clear what was expected of me as a member of a family, a community, a nation. They didn’t burden me with the task of child-rearing.

Emily Yoffe, senior editor

I’m grateful that our daughter met the man who just became her husband. (We have a son-in-law!) I’m grateful for young love (old love is good, too).

Freya Sanders, associate editor

My boyfriend and I are bad at cryptic crosswords. He’s a teacher, and I’m a perfectionist, so we really want to get better at them, but have you tried to do a cryptic crossword lately? They’re too hard! It’s elitist! So I’m thankful that, earlier this year, the Guardian website introduced a quick cryptic, for the puzzlers who try but flail. It’s easy enough that my boyfriend and I can solve every clue, but tricky enough that we still feel like utter geniuses when we do. The quick cryptic drops on Saturdays, and he and I do it together every weekend, no matter what. In fact, the last time I flew to the New York office—to spend a few weeks covering the election—I told him: You’re not allowed to do the crossword without me. On weekends, back in London, he would dutifully wait out the five-hour time difference till I woke up in America, ready to puzzle.

Tyler Cowen, our favorite economist

I am grateful for family, having lived an entire life in good health, and now witnessing some of the most exciting times in human history, due to the advent of generative AI. I also live near a very good movie theater.

Bari Weiss, founder and editor

I’m grateful to every single person who has gathered under the banner of The Free Press. I’m grateful to live in a country where The Free Press can be built—and where a free press can be renewed and restored. I’m grateful for everyone helping us build it—all of my brilliant colleagues and all 936,659 of you. (I’ll never get sick of looking at that number.)

And because I believe one should always be closing, even on Thanksgiving—this is America!—click here and give the gift of great independent journalism. We’ve never needed it more.

Also, I’m thankful for the other journalists who are going their own way and making things I love to read, including: County Highway, Arena mag, and Cluny Journal.

Larissa Phillips, contributor

Dogs! What would our darkest days be like—not just in these stark modern times but through the 20,000 years that dogs have been with us—without them warming our beds, alerting us to invasion, watching over our children, keeping us company? I’m especially awed by working dogs, bred to amplify the scope and speed of our limited human reach, all for the plain joy of working with us. But even the hiking buddies and the porch-sitters are essential workers, and I’m grateful every day for mine.

Peter Savodnik, senior editor

I’m grateful for too many things to jot down in a single Thanksgiving post: my family, my friends, my health, the trip my wife and I took to France last July, the overpriced bottle of Scotch an old friend gave me for my birthday, Paganini’s 24 Caprices while driving just a bit too fast on the freeway at night on my way home.

But, okay, if I must choose just one thing that stands out, that has elevated my mood when it needed to be elevated, it’s Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain, which I read many years ago and have spent the past month or so rereading, slowly, late at night or early in the morning, between all the other things.

I love the novel, because it’s brilliant, and incisive, and haunting, and it weaves through much of my adult life. And, most of all, because it’s hopeful. Not in an irritating way, but in the only way that a novel can be hopeful and honest—by forcing us to imagine how things might be, by reminding us of our agency, by reminding us that our agency is, really, the only thing.

Tanya Lukyanova, video journalist

Things I’m grateful for this year, in no particular order: my husband and our sweet 2-year-old; nannies; naps; living in (and recently becoming a citizen of) a country where I can speak my mind without fear of persecution; How To with John Wilson; Brooklyn Bridge Park; face time; FaceTime; more naps.

Kat Rosenfield, columnist

I’m thankful for modern conveniences. Washing machines! Dishwashers! Those Japanese toilets that know when you come into the bathroom and open up their lids to reveal all sorts of bells, whistles, and bespoke butt-cleaning devices! Even if you find the smart toilets unaffordable (the low-end models cost a cool several thousand dollars) or inscrutable (what’s up with this button that has a picture of a shark and the words “Surprise me” on it?), what a treat to live in a world where such a thing exists.

Which is the real point, and it isn’t even about toilets, really—or at least, it’s not only about toilets. In the wake of the pandemic years, when tech was used mostly to keep us alone, apart, and immersed in simulated realities that were worse in every way than real life, sometimes it feels like 2024 was the year when we finally remembered that technology can bring us together, too, and I’m thankful for all the innovations that make it more convenient, more fun, or more downright awe-inspiring to be a person in the world.

I’m thankful for Facebook Marketplace, the internet forum where I can pursue my two main passions: a) finding great deals on gently loved antique furniture, and b) meeting and chatting with various strangers who share my enthusiasm for gently loved antique furniture. I’m thankful for the robot vacuum at the yoga studio where I teach on Thursday nights, which not only cleans the floor but also sometimes rolls out into the room in the middle of class and headbutts people mid-Chaturanga, because the only thing better than a smart vacuum cleaner is a smart vacuum cleaner that’s also kind of an idiot. I’m thankful for the Super Heavy booster, and the chopstick apparatus that caught it in midair, and the video camera that captured the ecstatic reaction of the team that designed it. What a time to be alive! I’m so grateful to be here, and I’m so happy that you—yes, you—are here, too. That is, here on the planet, not here in this room.

Actually, I’m going to need you to stay out of this room for awhile. The smart toilet and I need some privacy.

Eli Lake, reporter

The uncontested result of the presidential election. Following 2020, I was prepared for another squeaker. If Donald Trump had lost by a few thousand votes in a few swing states, we would all be stuck watching the courts to tell us what votes should be recounted and which ones don’t count. Instead, Trump won handily, the lawfare cases against him are evaporating, there is no steal to be stopped. In this small way, it feels like our republic has a chance to return to normal.

Sean Fischer, editorial assistant

I’m thankful for fall and spring, for seasons of change. I love observing early morning mists and winter frosts, seeing wild geese overhead and feeling softening dirt beneath my feet. There’s a serenity that comes from sensing the stillness of each day and the motion of each month: The earth keeps spinning; the sun keeps rising. Also: chocolate croissants (pains au chocolat, to you Europeans out there). They sustain me more than anything.

Maya Sulkin, chief of staff

Elon Musk’s Twitter (sorry, I will never call it X) may have its shortcomings, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t applaud Community Notes. You see, I’m always sending my colleagues important updates, like pictures of Pope Francis wearing a ridiculous puffer coat or Nicki Minaj endorsing Trump. And that’s all fine and good, except for when none of it’s true, and you work in news. Twitter’s Community Notes to the rescue, often alerting me to fake news and saving me from considerable embarrassment. I now know when an image is AI-generated (quite often, it turns out), and that sometimes people just make things up and put “BREAKING” in front of it.

But if we’re getting sappy (and I see that a lot of my colleagues are), I’m most grateful for my parents and their voicemails. They leave meetings to answer my calls, but I resist answering theirs just so they leave a voicemail—a keepsake of their affection. When the day comes that I can’t call them anymore, I’ll have a treasure chest of their words waiting for me.

Martin Gurri, columnist

This year, the petty little man in me is thankful that I won’t have to listen to Joe Biden’s double-dribbling sentences or Kamala Harris’s sitcom canned laughter ever again. The greedy analyst in me is thankful that Donald Trump is coming to burn Washington, D.C., to the ground, so Bari Weiss can keep telling people that I’m the only human on Earth who understands this dread pirate. The lonesome immigrant in me is thankful for my wife, and children, and grandchildren, my country and my street, my plans and my memories—because they make high politics feel like a trivial dream that I wake up from, when I step away from my laptop.

Lisa J. DiMiceli, copy chief

I’m grateful for my healthy, caring son. We didn’t know he would be our only child, but as it turns out, I can’t imagine containing even more happiness than we have had as a compact family of three. He is 17 years old on the outside, and often a sage old soul on the inside. He’s so funny and so perceptive that he has helped me—a professional observer, i.e., journalist—to see the world anew. Sometimes it’s overwhelming to see, as he does, how many people are in need of housing, of food, of opportunity, of freedom. As he chooses colleges to apply to, he is looking to match his ambitious goals of improving the lives of Americans with programs that will give him the tools to make a positive impact. While I’ll miss him when he leaves the nest, I am grateful for the gift that I’ve been given of 18 years with such a warmhearted human. Being his mom gave me the impetus to be my best self, and the courage to get involved in our community and help where I could. I know that sharing him with the world will only make this little blue marble better, as he has transformed his own parents. This Thanksgiving he and I are grateful to be in a position to support Project Hospitality and hope others can, too.

Coleman Hughes, contributor

During her appearance on the Call Her Daddy podcast, Kamala Harris was asked a simple rhetorical question: Can we think of a single policy that controls what men can do with their bodies? The politically correct answer was, of course, No. The real answer, however, is Yes—the military draft. I often think about how grateful I am to have avoided the grim fate of so many millions of young men in the past. Instead of dying in some God-forsaken trench in service to a cause I barely understand, I get to read, write, speak to interesting people, and play music all day. Not a bad trade.

Ellie Stein, head of business development

I’m grateful for the Hot Rabbi in Nobody Wants This, the hit show that took over Netflix this fall. I’m not proud to say that I watched the whole series in a weekend—just kidding, of course I am. I’m on my third watch. Hot Rabbi (Adam Brody) deserves praise for becoming the rom-com hero we didn’t know we needed, and for giving Jews some good PR for once.

I’m also grateful for my real-life boyfriend who is hot, but not a rabbi. Nobody’s perfect.

Greg Collard, senior producer

I am thankful that the NFL now has games in prime time on Thanksgiving and Black Friday, and that we’ll once again have football games on Christmas this year. Nature is healing.

Josh Code, editorial assistant

I’m grateful for all of the wonderful people in my life:

My cousins in New York City. On Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, the five of us meet at Grand Central Station and take the train to Connecticut. (My cousin Ava always saves the latest Sunday crossword for us to do together on our way to New Haven.)

My neighbors in Hell’s Kitchen. Special shout-outs to Eve, who lets me play with her impossibly cute cat; Jeanne, who taught me how to bake the perfect batch of brownies (with butter, of course. No canola oil!); and Martha, who gave me the tip for my first-ever Free Press byline.

My coworkers at The Free Press, with whom I can speak freely about culture, politics, and the state of the world. Before I ended up here, I was fired from a job at a call center for referring to New York’s Alphabet City as “the get-killed zone.” According to my termination letter, I had violated the company’s “zero-tolerance microaggressions policy.” Colleagues, I’ll try my best not to abuse my newfound freedoms.

Batya Ungar-Sargon, Free Press Live co-host

I am unbelievably grateful to be an American. And I am especially grateful this year, because I think it’s becoming clear that polarization is a myth, and more unites us as Americans than divides us.

Balaji Srinivasan, tech entrepreneur and investor

I am grateful for the existence of Substack, where this can be read; for the welcome resilience of free speech and free markets; for the majesty of science and technology; for many personal things that are of no import to anyone but my loved ones; and for the overall turn towards sanity in society. I do think that sanity may just be a brief respite en route to the volatility to come—but I’m thankful for it nonetheless.

Lucy Biggers, social media editor

I’m grateful for my family and our health—it may sound like a cliché, but it’s true that health and family are everything. Oh, and I’m also thankful for ChatGPT.

Rob Henderson, contributor

I am thankful for my adoptive family, for my sister, for the honor of serving this great country, and for the second chance that allowed me to become the first in my family to go to college. I am also grateful to live in a country where, despite the persistent efforts of the luxury belief class, the ideal of meritocracy still endures.

Natalie Ballard, copy editor

I’m grateful for my two wonderful cats, who are my favorite companions. I’m grateful for my cabinet full of tea. I’m eternally grateful that any book I want, and all the knowledge in the world, are available to me at the touch of a button. The Free Press has my gratitude for a job I love, and for dropping me in the middle of New York City several times over the year, so I could figure out that I can handle it. I’m thankful that my big mouth and bigger opinions don’t land me in prison because this is America, dammit.

Bobby Moriarty, associate producer

I’m grateful for my late musical heroes, who grounded me throughout this dizzying election year. To name a few: Blaze Foley, whose inimitable baritone brings me solace; Jerry Garcia, whose melodies tickle my soul; and Al Green, whose sultry rhythms keep me groovin’. I’m also grateful for my bandmates Ben, Ciaran, and Jack for allowing me to keep the music alive with Bogus Rex.

Austyn Jeffs, video editor

California. Three decades in, I’m still consumed by its variety, landscapes, and cultures. No weekend feels identical. It’s given my life so much spectacle.

Katie Herzog, journalist, podcaster, and TGIF understudy

It has been a year, and as the days grow darker, I find it helpful to remember the things I’m most thankful for, which are, in order of importance: wireless earbuds, non-shedding dogs, butter, mossy woods, light rain, Flonase, the Sunday crossword, an empty gym, Twitter’s mute function, detective novels, carbohydrates, TSA PreCheck, detergent sheets, simmer pots, the okra fries at Chai Pani, heated seats, a decent haircut, eyesight, a spouse who cooks, and whales.

Margi Conklin, managing editor

My dog Mabel is 16 and a half years old. This will be her seventeenth Thanksgiving.

It is astonishing that a pedigree English cocker spaniel has lived longer than the average canine. But “Miracle Mabel”—as my husband, Chris, and I call her—is not like other dogs.

She has been attacked twice by pit bulls, and a rottweiler three times. When hiking, she has fallen through a crack in a rock, danced onto a ledge over a perilous cliff, jumped into lakes to chase after ducks and geese—and once swam so far away I thought I’d never see her again.

But she always came back to us: tongue out, eyes glistening, triumphant.

Then, in the summer of 2017, when she was 9, we really thought she was a goner. Out of nowhere, she started vomiting. Her belly turned yellow. The voracious, always adventurous Mabel refused to move, or eat, or drink.

The vet told us she had deadly pancreatitis, and her chances of survival were 50–50. I buried my head in her fur and cried all the way home.

Every day for two weeks, Mabel was put on an IV drip so strong it made her howl after treatment. Her immune system was so suppressed she developed an infection that made her swell up. She was limp and forlorn, and I hovered around her, anticipating her imminent demise.

But, gradually, the sparkle returned to her eyes. Miracle Mabel had done it again.

Even now that her body is old and weak, her spirit remains indomitable. Two years ago, when she started walking into walls, we thought she had a brain tumor, but the vet told us, “Nope. It’s just an ear infection.” Some days, she doesn’t want to eat or walk, and we think: This is it, only to be wrong again.

At this point, it’s hard to believe we will ever lose her, even though we know her final day must be coming soon. I can almost feel it inching closer.

And so, this Thanksgiving, I will look into her cloudy eyes, which have lost all their lashes, and stroke her thinning fur, and say, “Miracle Mabel, I’m so grateful you’re still here.”

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