November 19, 2025
As we approach Thanksgiving, today’s Thought of the Day and Question of the Day land right on theme. We’re talking gratitude, entitlement, privilege, and the strangely specific foods we only eat once a year even though they’re actually pretty good (or at least nostalgic). Today’s post digs into the uncomfortable truth Brené Brown offers, the personal stories that go with it, and a Thanksgiving question guaranteed to stir up your memory, and maybe your appetite.
Thought of the Day: “What separates privilege from entitlement is gratitude.” — Brené Brown
Every once in a while, someone drops a quote that doesn’t just hit the nail on the head, it smacks you right between the eyes. Brené Brown’s Thought of the Day does exactly that.
I’ve always believed gratitude is one of those quiet superpowers. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t demand applause. It just does the work. Gratitude is the difference between thinking “I deserve this” and “I’m thankful for this.” One carries weight; the other carries warmth.
Privilege, by itself, isn’t a dirty word. We all have some. Some of us have financial privilege. Some have social privilege. Some have the privilege of a strong support network. Some have the privilege of a second chance we might not have deserved but got anyway. The real issue isn’t whether you’re privileged, it’s how you carry it.
Gratitude turns privilege into something generous. Entitlement turns privilege into something sharp.
I think about this a lot around the holidays. Every year at this time, I’m hyper-aware of how much I have to be grateful for. A family that cares about me. Kids who bring chaos but also joy. A community that shows up for each other. And this little corner of the internet where I get to ask questions, write my thoughts, and somehow people keep reading.
Gratitude reframes everything. Even the stressful stuff. Like the moments when the house looks like a tornado passed through because the kids discovered all the board games at the same time. Or when work goes sideways and I’m juggling 10 things while trying not to burn dinner. Gratitude doesn’t erase the chaos; it just softens the edges.
And maybe that’s what Brené means. Privilege becomes entitlement when we stop noticing. Entitlement says, “This is normal. I deserve this.” Gratitude says, “Wow. I get to have this.”
If we remembered that more often, I think half the world’s arguments would evaporate.
For more reflections on gratitude and how it transforms even the messy parts of life, you can read pieces like this one about rediscovering everyday magic or this one about what people misunderstand about us, both of which circle back to how much perspective shapes our happiness.
Question of the Day: What is a food you only eat on Thanksgiving?
Let’s be honest: Thanksgiving has some weirdly specific foods.
No one is casually whipping up stuffing in mid-April. Cranberry sauce isn’t exactly the star of summer picnics. And sweet potatoes topped with miniature marshmallows? That’s not a Tuesday-night dish. That’s a once-a-year culinary event.
For me, the answer used to be green bean casserole. You know the one, the cream of mushroom soup, the crunchy onions on top, the dish that somehow tastes better than it has any right to. I don’t think I’ve ever made it outside of Thanksgiving. I’m not against it. It just… lives in November.
But the older I get, the more I see that these one-day-only foods aren’t really about the foods. They’re markers. Memory anchors. They’re shorthand for “This is the part where we gather.”
Your once-a-year food might be pecan pie, or Grandma’s stuffing recipe that no one else can replicate, or that weird Jell-O mold that shows up every year even though nobody seems to like it. (All families have at least one.)
And maybe that’s part of the gratitude we talked about earlier, these food traditions only make sense because they’re tied to people, stories, places, and feelings.
This year, I’m trying something different: eating one Thanksgiving food on a random day in March just to see what happens. Maybe it won’t taste as good without the whole family gathered around. Or maybe it’ll taste better because the expectations are lower. Either way, food is memory, and memory is meaning.
And if you’re curious what other people choose as their once-a-year food, I promise you’ll get about 47 passionate answers if you ask at your dinner table. Everyone has an opinion, and nobody holds back.
Join the Conversation
What’s your once-a-year Thanksgiving food?
What does gratitude look like for you right now?
Drop a comment, or—if you like starting your day with a little meaning—join the daily email and get each Thought of the Day and Question of the Day delivered right to you.
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