What We Owe One Another

At nearly every Thanksgiving dinner, I’m asked by my family to say grace, and every time I do, I add some variation of the following sentiment to the usual expressions of gratitude for another year’s blessings: Lord, help us all to be more thankful for the people around us, not only those we know and love but also the not-so-well-known, those we depend upon and often take for granted. At which point, everyone—including me—digs in and mostly forgets what I just said.

My late mother once told me that real kindness involves being nice to the people you don’t have to be nice to. This isn’t easy, and not because most of us are cruel or rude; many of us fail at this charge out of neglect, because we just plain forget to acknowledge and thank the people around us. This is especially true for those we have less of a personal connection to, but who nonetheless play an important role in the joints of our day-to-day lives.

Think of the people who collect our trash, maintain the buildings and gardens around us or stock the shelves of our supermarkets and other stores. How often have we stopped to tell a stockboy or janitor how grateful we are that they’re on the job? I can’t remember when I last did so, can you?

Henry David Thoreau famously said that the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. But these days, it’s worth adding that the bulk of us also lead lives of restless distraction. Of course, people have always been susceptible to distractions, but in the ever-faster stream of modern life, the problem has gone from mildly troubling to endemic.

Distractions have become our North Star. Most of the people I see walking their dogs are on their phones. And so, during one of the only times of the day when many have a chance to have some quality time with their pets, they’re texting, talking or watching videos. People greeted with a “good morning” or “hello” by the employees of coffee shops or fast-food places often respond by blurting out their order before turning their attention back to TikTok.

This problem is particularly acute among what Peggy Noonan calls “the protected,” the successful knowledge workers who largely run this country. In my neighborhood, which is mostly populated by the protected, I routinely see people walk within a few feet of the landscapers who are doing the grubby work of making their yards tidy with nary a nod, let alone a “hello” or a “thank you.” They’re invisible.

The irony is that many of the protected, at least as evidenced by their lawn signs, claim to care deeply about the unprotected, the people who make the world of things (rather than of words) run, often without any of the perks and protections accorded to those of us in the knowledge class. But when confronted with the very people they claim to care about, the protected act as if they couldn’t care less.

During the years when I was in school and just after, I waited tables at a number of restaurants. (Everyone should work in a restaurant at least once in their life, if for no other reason than to make them a better customer.) My years in food service were filled with many ego blows and petty humiliations, not usually by overtly nasty customers, but often by those who could not bother to make eye contact with me, let alone say “please” or “thank you.” But there were also moments of extraordinary kindness and grace, people who took just a moment to acknowledge how difficult it is to juggle the wants and desires of dozens of customers at the same time and get it all—drinks, appetizers, entrees, coffee and dessert—just right in the end. One smile and a “thank you for your great service” could carry me through the rest of a tough day.

When the great British film actor David Niven died in 1983, one of the wreaths at his funeral was from, of all people, the porters at London’s Heathrow Airport. A note on the wreath read: “To the finest gentleman who ever walked through these halls. He made a porter feel like a king.” That, gentle reader, is what we owe one another.

What I’m watching: I’ve started working my way through a fascinating British mystery series from the early aughts, “Foyle’s War.” The show (which is currently streaming on Acorn TV) stars the wonderful Michael Kitchen as Christopher Foyle, a police detective in the English coastal town of Hastings during World War II. I’ve found that at least so far, each episode does a masterful job of integrating what’s going in the war at that moment with some aspect of the mystery that Foyle is trying to solve. For instance, the story in the second episode prominently features efforts in May 1940 to evacuate British soldiers from Dunkirk.

Kitchen is one of those actors who can say more with a raised eyebrow than most can with three minutes of dialogue. And his Foyle is a fascinating, multilayered character: reserved, brilliant and deeply moral. The show also features wonderful British actors as guest stars, with James McAvoy, Rosamund Pike, Edward Fox and the amazing Robert Hardy appearing in the pilot episode alone. Charles Dance, Alan Howard, Emily Blunt and Roger Allam also show up in early episodes.

“Foyle’s War” was created by famed English mystery writer Anthony Horowitz, who also penned most of the episodes. His scripts are profoundly literate, and his knowledge of Britain and British society during this harrowing time in its history is superb. I’ve only watched the first three episodes of “Foyle’s War,” but I’m already hooked and looking forward to the other 25.

And finally: On behalf of the staff at Discourse, let me say that I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. We feel grateful to be able to do the work of putting out the magazine each day, but it would all be for naught without you, gentle reader. And so, we are especially grateful for each and every one of you. And, as I’ve said before, if you enjoy what you’re reading here, please consider giving generously to help us continue to publish Martin Gurri, Henry Olsen, James Lileks and all of the other great writers who regularly contribute to the magazine. Thanks.

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