Thanksgiving is a simple holiday. Yet, in some ways, misunderstood.

We like to think back to what we were told was the very first Thanksgiving. Pilgrims and Native Americans.

Yes, it did happen. But don’t let it steer you into thinking it was the first example of shared gratitude.

Nor did pilgrims introduce Native Americans to the concept of giving thanks. They were doing it all along, a mode of thankfulness to nature and ancestors.

Tribes routinely celebrated harvest and Mother Earth’s abundance.

And Thanksgiving is not strictly a religious holiday. It’s secular. And it’s cultural.

Giving thanks is universal, whether directed toward a deity, nature or kinship.

And fittingly, there are probably as many ways to do it as there are those who take part.

For instance, atheists give thanks to their fellow man and for life’s blessings without a need for assigning supernatural credit.

Truth is, humans have been giving thanks ever since there have been humans.

This year, my eighth year of retirement, I’m thankful for continued health.

I’ve never been seriously ill and have enjoyed being active all of my life.

I don’t take it for granted, especially after a scare this year in which a routine health screening indicated potential cancer.

Turned out it was a false positive. No cancer. But I went through two months of worry and a prescribed medical procedure.

It was the first time in my life I’ve undergone anesthesia by propofol.

The nurses were surprised to learn I’d never been an inpatient. Never spent one night in a hospital.

“You’re very, very lucky to be your age and never hospitalized,” one told me. And since I was there only for a short procedure, my record stays intact.

I’m thankful, too, to still have strong, steady balance at age 70, allowing me to ride my challenging 1890 highwheel bicycle.

I’m thankful for family and friends and my environment.

For instance, I’m grateful to live in the Northeast, relatively safe from the worst hurricane disasters.

They cause too much harm, destruction and worry down in Florida for me to ever consider moving there.

In general, I’m thankful simply to be here. Because so many of my loved ones are gone.

I have a friend who’s into Civil War re-enactments. His situation is similar to mine. He lives alone.

“What do you do for the holidays,” I asked.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal,” he said, “ever since my wife died on Christmas Eve.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear it.” I said. “I understand how it changes things. I lost my mother over Christmas and another loved one over New Year’s.”

Actually, no matter when during the year you’ve lost loved ones, you miss them dearly at the holidays. It can be a sad time.

An empty chair at the table can be cured by rearranging the seating. But it doesn’t relieve the emptiness in the heart.

So the holidays, for some, are dark. They’re even darker when we turn back the clocks. Day becomes night.

My German ancestors made a tradition of brightening winter’s gloom with a festive indoor Yule tree. Long-standing tradition.

In fact, the practice dates back to pagan roots.

So I try to do the same every year around the solstice. Time to put up the tree. No need to wait for Christmas.

“But isn’t it early for a holiday tree,” asked a friend.

No, not at all. I brighten my surroundings and it lifts the spirit. It’s never too early to lift your spirit.

We have one time of the year to set aside troubles, put a smile on our face and reach for the stars. So do it.

Because no matter how bad things might be, we’re still here.

And that’s something to celebrate.

Have a warm, wonderful Thanksgiving.