Ignore the title of this post: It doesn’t precisely (technically) make sense. But I think you know where I’m going with this.
Gratitude is something I did not have until I got sober in 2010. Before that I complained. A lot. All the time. About everything. Being a straight white man of economic means growing up in Southern California with two loving—if flawed—parents makes it seem like exactly what that was: Ridiculous.
And yet, my childhood was not exactly easy. Nor has my life in general been easy, in many ways. Of course I am superbly NOT unique in this regard. I am privileged and always have been. These two ideas can sit in our minds simultaneously. Look at that, mom: No hands!
Truly, though. I am grateful first and foremost to be alive. There were many years there—pre-sobriety—when I honestly didn’t think I’d make it. (If you asked my parents they’d agree.) And I’m profoundly grateful to be 12-plus years sober from alcoholism. That has changed my life in ways still not fully comprehendible or definable.
I am grateful for my family, all of them, most importantly my 77-year-old father who’s been struggling with stage 4 metastatic Melanoma since July of 2021. I am grateful that I’ve been able to help him through this trying, exhausting time. I’m grateful for my author-mother, who spiritually taught me about Being a Writer. (Look for the interview with her to come soon on here.) I’m grateful for my uncle—also a novelist—who was my hero all through my teens and most of my twenties, and who I still love to chat with about literature, art, politics.
I’m grateful for my older half-sister and my brother-in-law and my teenage niece and nephew, particularly my 18-year-old niece who survived a brutal suicide attempt last year and is now doing very well and is in college.
I’m grateful for my 6.5-year-old Tuxedo cat, Lucius (named after the child in the film Gladiator) who is truly my “natural born son with fur.” (And a total butthead.) I’m grateful for writing, because in many ways it’s saved my life more times than I can understand. Ditto reading, which has been alongside my journey since the beginning.
I’m grateful for backpacking and hiking and nature. I’m grateful for unconditional love, from myself to myself and from family and friends. I’m grateful for all the pain and suffering and traveling and moving and chaos I experienced as a wild alcoholic from ages 17-27, because it made me who I am today.
Last—but definitely not least—I am wildly grateful to Britney, the woman I love more than anything in the world. She is currently with her son in Amsterdam. I’m picking her up tomorrow from LAX.
I can’t wait to see you!
Have a Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. Think of what you’re grateful for. Post that here if you’d like. Try to avoid politics with family. We may be divided as a nation right now, but we weren’t like this before, and we won’t be forever. Remember: We all have more in common than apart. We’re spiritually connected, all of us. We are citizens of America.
Love.
Michael Mohr
P.S. Look for my auto-fiction story about my experience with the Hells Angels. Coming tomorrow early morning! Lord was I young, dumb and drunk!
I’m glad you have so much in your life to be grateful for. Being able to appreciate the good in spite (because?) of the not-so-good is what it’s all about. Hope you’re having a Happy Thanksgiving :-)
What a grand post, Michael. And, for your readers in case they missed this: As to how reading saved you click here for Michael's fabulous guest post: https://marytabor.substack.com/p/on-literature -- and, readers, consider doing a guest post for me. My gratitude to you, Michael. ~Mary