Although celebrating the harvest and giving thanks for a successful bounty of crops has been a long-standing tradition throughout North America in an event known as Thanksgiving, this can be a happy time for some people. But for indigenous people, this holiday holds a troubled historical meaning and can be a kick in the teeth.
Putting that aside, I believe that "Thanksgiving" is not a holiday but a lifestyle. Being a nurse, I appreciate the "health and the power of being thankful." There is an article in today's Toronto Star ( L4) pointing out that studies show being grateful each day leads to physical, social, an psychological benefits.
I am grateful for the people in my life. I am thankful for my faith and the grace that comes with it. I am thankful for music. I am thankful for love of all. I am thankful for memories, whether it be love or regret.
Below is a wonderful Jazzy rendition of my favourite jazz standard "Autumn Leaves."
“Les feuilles mortes” (literally ‘The Dead Leaves’) was originally a melody composed by Joseph Kosma as a pas de deux (choreographed duo) for the ballet Le Rendez-vous, with a plot by Jacques Prévert. It was introduced by Roland Petit in 1945, without words. The copyright is dated February 27, 1946 and it was first published by Enoch (Paris, France) in 1947.
The original was about an an all-consuming passion; a dark lament of lost love and regret. The translated version, “Autumn Leaves,” touched on the same theme, but in a gentler, more wistful way; More nostalgic than angst-ridden, more bittersweet than bitter.
What is your favourite version? What is your favourite Autumn Song? Most important, for what are you thankful? ~ Mossy
"C'est une chanson qui nous ressemble.
Toi, tu m'aimais et je t'aimais
Et nous vivions tous deux ensemble,
Toi qui m'aimais, moi qui t'aimais.
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s'aiment,
Tout doucement, sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable
Les pas des amants désunis."
This is a song which resembles to us.
You, you loved me and I loved you
And we lived both together,
You who loved me, me who loved you.
But the life separate those which love themselves,
All softly, without making noise
And the sea erases on the sand
The Steps of divided lovers.
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Owen Sound, Ontario, Canada
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