Gratitude for America and the Hands that Built it

Thinking back on Thanksgiving from when I was a child, I remember being told by my parents and teachers to be grateful for what I had, including living in the United States.  But as a kid, the meaning of “how lucky I was to live in the U.S.” wasn’t easy to comprehend. Of course, I had some sense of what it might feel like to be physically hungry, so when they told me I was lucky to have food and to finish my plate, I understood. But the intangibles—my community, my freedom, my liberties—took longer to deeply cherish. Having...

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