Plenty

A few scenes exploring want and abundance. I’m not thankful in all of them.

Scene I.

When I was young, the cornucopia was ubiquitous, and the symbol is still in use, but it doesn’t seem quite as in-your-face as I remember. Perhaps the fact that I haven’t set foot in an elementary or middle school in a couple of decades has something to do with that.

That “horn of plenty” was the agrarian ideal of abundance. The classroom cut-outs pasted on the windows and walls were stuffed with gourds, grains of wheat, leaves, and fruit.

It never occurred to me to ask, “Why a horn?” What does a horn have to do with harvest? I’m not sure that we learned the mythological origin story of Zeus breaking off the horn of a goat named Amalthea. That same goat is said to have nursed Zeus.

Ew.

I mean, I know goat’s milk is healthy and, in some ways, superior to cow’s milk for children, but we tend to extract the milk from the goat. We don’t belly up to the source.

According to the myth, Zeus broke off the horn in horseplay and later transformed it into a symbol of abundance.

OK, wait. The horn is a stand-in for a goat teat?

Again, ew. Moving on.

Scene II.

What does it mean to have abundance, especially now, now that we live in a nation with increasing disparities between those who have way, way too much and those who are just trying to keep the lights on?

I don’t know how to fix runaway greed, and I want to stop corporations from being counted as people.

For that matter, I don’t know how to stop being angry at 45/47 when he tells a female reporter, “Quiet. Quiet, piggy.”

Historian Heather Cox Richardson mused aloud whether that was the kind of language that 45/47 had grown up with. She could not grasp why he would use such vile language in speaking to a woman.

Well, he’s a vile person, Heather.

So, there’s that.

I was taught to pray for those in government, but in this case, I pray that we all be delivered from this madness.

Scene III.

I’d like to say that real abundance lies within you, but that is a load of crap when you’re afraid of losing your housing.

I have never known such a fear, but I know someone who lived in their car for a while. N. — let’s call her N. — wasn’t lazy. She left a physically abusive marriage with no job, little education, and two little kids. To say that N. had a rough time doesn’t begin to describe her ordeal.

Through hard work and some luck, she is now doing fabulously well. Last year, N. was dismayed enough by the threat of another Trump presidency that she decided to move to another country.

She is thankful to be in a place where having things is not the end goal.

Scene IV.

The thirst for abundance seems hardwired into Americans’ deepest sensibilities. We still believe the false promise of the Prosperity Gospel because it’s really a combination of superstition and cockeyed optimism, and we are ever hopeful that we, too, can strike it rich.

This is not the message of Thanksgiving any more than is “real abundance lies within you.” Except that when I look at my neighbors from far-flung places around the globe, they live as though it were a deep truth.

They have very little, but they live with joy and hope.

Scene V.

What real abundance (and thankfulness) looks like to me now:

That moment when everyone is around the table playing Uno. The mood is high, faces are shining. There’s an indescribable rightness in the air, even though in the next second, someone is going to become very unhappy. For that blip of time, life is perfect.

The squeal of joy when Grand Two sees his mommy’s face shining down upon him in his crib.

The louder squeal of joy when Grand One runs around the dining room table while being pursued by his daddy who is making dinosaur sounds.

The neighbor who draws her curtains at sundown and lights a lamp in her living room. The warm glow of the lamp through her curtains each night is like a cup of cocoa for my soul.

The faithful dog who softly sighs on the couch next to me.

Joan Zwagerman is thankful for all the readers of this column and wishes each person joy and contentment. May that be the kind of abundance we all receive.