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There is a new bird song in the morning. Sometimes I think it is a mockingbird but it’s too early for them to come a’calling. There has been a hawk making quite a bit of noise but he must have smelled turkey roasting and took off to hover at Nobu in Malibu until it’s safe.

Other birds are beginning to wake up now as the sky begins to lighten. There is so much to do around here, dry-rot to fix, walls to be painted. My pockets are empty but my heart is full. Sure it’s got lots of scar tissue but John Singer Sargent: Spanish Dancerit’s still pumping love.

It’s Thanksgiving morning and while most of the people I love have gone skiing or to party somewhere fun and non-taxing, I, being the pioneer, the pilgrim, have stayed behind with the old people. I’m no saint but I know what the kind and thoughtful thing to do is, and that’s being here.

There is always something to be grateful for, even if it’s just the new song of a bird outside your window. Okay so the window is hanging on by a thread but I can fix it. And I’m grateful for these two hands.

So look into your dark heart, reach in and find the soft spot. Pray it is still there. And don’t forget to dance – you may be too self-involved to realize that old people like music and laughter too.

1, 2, 1, 2, 3, hit it!