It's November 9, 1620 and I'm a mighty Pilgrim about to embark toward an unknown land via my only means of transport at the time. With no electronic navigational device, no high-speed engine to propel me forth at some expeditious rate, and no phone home capabilities, I, along with any family members, embody my sole possession. Therefore it is my humanity alone for which I'm thankful.

It seems that as a society becomes more civilized, our mighty technological glories abounding, we the civilized, begin to transgress into mindless, thankless creatures no longer aware of what it's like to be a have-not. We as a society are so accustomed to having those items we rely heavily upon to keep us moving at our constant, steady pace, that one minor infliction upon our dependencies sends us into whine mode.

The first true Thanksgiving occurred in 1623, after a providential rain shower saved the Pilgrim's crops, their life's bread. The salvation of their sustenance being a truly great reason to be thankful, they celebrated with a harvest festival. Nearly 480 years after the fact, do we even have the ability to give thanks in this fashion? If forced, would we even know how?

The first true Thanksgiving occurred in 1623, after a providential rain shower saved the Pilgrim's crops, their life's bread. The salvation of their sustenance being a truly great reason to be thankful, they celebrated with a harvest festival. Nearly 480 years after the fact, do we even have the ability to give thanks in this fashion? If forced, would we even know how?

We have become so accustomed to tuning one another out. The vast improvements made over the years to the beloved items of convenience that were supposed to save us from time-crunching, and therefore allow us more time for activities of enjoyment, have not done their job. It seems that the true nature, the hidden agenda that lies within the mechanical brain of these devices, has only caused us to grow further apart. That which we gain in convenience is depriving us slowly of our ability to relate to one another on a personal level.

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Perhaps it is the machinery of society that reaps the benefits, while we ourselves are turning into the machines.

Why is it that when I allow Mr. "In a hurry" to boldly cut in front of me on the expressway, that his slight wave of thanks seems foreign, like icing on a cake that was supposed to be served plain? Why should I be appreciative, due to its rarity, of the man who chooses to take two seconds to throw back his arm in awareness that I have gone out of my way to move him ahead in my line to who knows where?

So what do we, the people, have to be thankful for, and I'm not just talking turkey here?

Walking down a crowded city street in Ohio one day, I was taken aback by the smiles of acknowledgement and the couple of stray hellos that were fed my way. Two seconds out of a stranger's life, and these incidents remain permanently housed within my brain three years after the fact. I've been told by my Midwesterner friends that it must have been my California upbringing that simply did not expose me to a great deal of hospitable behavior, but one trip to New York and I'm quite certain that's not it.

Perhaps our childhood mantra of "Don't talk to strangers" has somehow found its way into our subconscious, making it impossible to even acknowledge the presence of someone unknown to us. Or is that simply the excuse I feed myself so that I can deem my behavior incorrigible and therefore unable of being changed?

Isn't it odd that we can ride up the elevator with the same faces on a daily basis, and still find ourselves sitting within an uncomfortable silence until the door opens at floor 15? Do we harbor some fear that by letting words of acknowledgement escape our lips, we'll in turn be indebted to go out of our way in the future? Perhaps! Or perhaps we've simply forgotten how to give thanks for the ability to interact.

We are a society of complainers, too used to whining about what we don't have, to appreciate that which we do.

What about that morning traffic that sends us into a rage? Or that parking space that simply isn't close enough to the front door? Or need we forget the significant other who has forgotten once again just what to do when the garbage fills to the brim. If we truly took count, we could think of a million reasons to be discontent, a zillion situations or people at which to aim our resentment. Wait, we already do that, don't we?

I know it sounds a little "angelic", but how about taking into account the thankfulness for that car, or the fact that you have the legs to carry you on that two minute jaunt from the parking space to the door. And that significant other, well you have one, don't you? Consider yourself thankful that someone cares enough about you to consider you significant.

I suppose I'm just getting really tired at having to delve deeply within myself in order to come up with something to be thankful for each and every turkey day. Shouldn't the fact that we have the ability to conjure up an answer be enough?

It seems the only thing we have upon this earth that is truly dependable, that has the ability to love us in a way that is unconditional of whatever horrendous deficiencies live within our persona, are the people that surround us. And if we close ourselves off from acknowledging them, and being thankful for their presence in our lives, even if it means they cut us off on the freeway, or forget to do this or that, what do we have?