A starter list for Thanksgiving

Rafael Nadal

Thanks for….

The folks who produce “Frontline” for PBS, possibly the most comprehensive documentary series in the history of television, featuring the voice of Will Lyman, who, one hopes, will be the play-by-play man for The Rapture.

The volunteers and poll workers who got us through another election and served a surprisingly high number of voters, considering how much we say we hate politics. Amazing, too, how it apparently wasn’t rigged.

The angels of mercy who live inside the Blue Tent during NFL games. Players are carried in there, five minutes from death’s door, and ten minutes later they’re returning punts. I’ll have what they’re having.

Playwright Samuel Hunter and actors Sean Luc Rogers and Michael Sturgis for their work in “Clarkston,” shown at the Echo Theater in Los Angeles. Best thing I’ve seen in 2024 so far.

Instant replay, and I don’t care how long it takes. I also don’t care that it seems to inconvenience broadcasters who, as far as I know, are contracted to stay there until the game is over.

Jean Smart, Hannah Einbinder and the whole crew of “Hacks.”

Those who minister to the homeless population and who try, in their bottom-up way, to ease the effects of a problem that defies the best efforts, and sometimes the worst, of those whom we elect.

The FEMA officials and others who fought through a vicious thicket of lies to normalize life in the North Carolina mountains after Hurricane Helene. The water is flowing in Asheville, and soon the banjo strings will be picked and the sidewalk artwork will be displayed as it was.

Rafael Nadal, who ended his brilliant career last week. He said his goal was just to be a good person from a small village in Mallorca. That was a good place to start.

Rex Chapman, whose daringly honest memoir “It’s Hard For Me To Live With Me” is the best sports book of the year so far. It also demonstrated the joys of unplugging.

David Frum, who penned the best magazine story I read this year (or in many years), “Miranda’s Last Gift” in The Atlantic.

Chef Jose Andres and the World Central Kitchen, which lost seven workers due to Israeli gunfire in Gaza and did not keep that outrage from their pledge to return. It also followed its own heart to Ukraine. Recently Andres was asked what he does for Thanksgiving and he said his family wouldn’t let him get away with avoiding turkey, but he admitted he’ll sneak in a turkey paella now and then.

The undercard boxers who work 9 to 5 and yet make weight and stay in fighting shape for the call that can come from anywhere. They keep the sport going so the so-called champions can step into the ring once a year, and then wonder why nobody knows who they are.

The mighty men and women of USA Track and Field, who again lit up the Olympics in a sport that we ignore 47 months out of 48.

Sarah McBride, the new member of Congress from Delaware who deflated one colleague’s transphobia by merely saying she’s not coming to Washington to argue about bathrooms, or to make nonstop videos of herself for that matter.

The girls who used to practice basketball at dawn because that’s the only time they could get the gym, and the coaches who used to sew the numbers on the uniforms late at night. They’re all a lot older now, and they must be absolutely loving the way the women’s game is creating its own heyday.

Cancer researchers. Death rates from cancer declined by a third from 1991 through 2021.

The ubiquity of Jason Kelce. Yes, this will reach critical mass at some point, but it’s nice to see a center get the big bucks. He’s probably upset he didn’t retire earlier.

The folks who pick the peppers and the lettuce and all the other things that go into our Thanksgiving Day salad. We’ll miss them.

The scientists who fly into the frowning eyes of hurricanes, and try to predict the unpredictable, in order to warn those who blithely built mini-mansions on the beach. We’ll miss them too.

And to those techies who set up the program that tells us our screen time increased 21 percent over last week. Shame is good.