November, 2002:

I have a lot to be thankful for.

If you live in America, chances are you do too, comparatively speaking. All it takes is the most perfunctory look around the world, a little global awareness, to see that most of us have got it pretty good.

In keeping with holiday tradition, I thought I'd take a look at some of the things for which I'm grateful. I used to think things like that were cheesy when I was young - until I grew to realize how hard and how beautiful Life can be; then I realized that gratitude for our blessings is one of the ways for us to take our own measure, and the measure of our lives. What we've earned and deserve is so different than what we're lucky to have: separating the two is bound to give us a more accurate picture of who we are and where we stand.

I used to think that Americans lacked humility. We seem to feel so entitled to the ease that surrounds us - the big slabs of meat that constitute a serving; the fact that every soccer mom and accountant in the country needs a enormous, stinking, gas-guzzling "sports utility" tank to negotiate the well-paved roads; that hundreds of channels still don't seem to be enough. The sight of Third-World misery on the evening news only seemed to cement our sense of superiority: "We're the greatest country in the world," we'd solemnly aver from behind our TV trays, and have another helping - or maybe we'd just go scrape what we couldn't eat into the garbage disposal.

Some of that isn't going to change; we're only human, after all. We really think the things we have - our homes, our things, our bodies, our loved ones - are ours, when in reality they've been lent, not given, and can be taken away at any time. We treat them with casual disregard when they might be gone tomorrow, and we're lucky they were ever there at all.

Since last September, though, I've seen an enormous difference in the world, in myself, and in the collective American 'we'. We live in a country where, for the second time now, some thousands of homes will celebrate their holidays around devastating absences, gaping wounds torn into the fabric of their lives and our country. This is the second year of the New Normal, where we live under the shadow of war, our false sense of security newly lost. Even as we've learned to cope with this agony, we've learned that this feeling is nothing new in many other places.

We're lucky to be here, lucky to have what we have, lucky to have the right to seek more if we're not satisfied. Lucky, really, to be alive right now, at this moment.

There's no way for me to count all my blessings. I've been given far too many. I have a lively and loving family, better friends than I deserve, and enough of everything I truly need. I've known passion, triumph, beauty, excitement, joy. The world is full of wonderful things, and I've had the good fortune to experience quite a few of them.

One of the greatest sources of that good fortune has been the sex industry. It's not just the lifelong friends I've met and the unforgettable experiences I've had within her walls, but the direct effect it's had on the quality of my everyday, mundane existence. In light of that, I thought it should be the industry-related blessings that I count, at least in part, today.

Freedom - In my years as a stripper I've been lucky enough to do what many people never get to do until after retirement; I've been able to come and go as I please, taking time off whenever I want. I can live on the fruits of very few hours of labor. A hard-working, goal-oriented, money-minded girl can retire after some years of hard work, and a frugal homebody can exist quite comfortably on just a few hours a week. There aren't too many things people value more than Time and Money, and I've had pretty easy access to both.

The industry has also helped to free me from a whole set of regulations and restrictions by which a great part of society feels bound. I'm largely (though not completely, to be perfectly honest) unencumbered by the burden of shame we bear as a culture. That's a feeling that another person won't ever understand until they can find their way out from under that burden themselves, and it's so good that I can't help but feel sorry for those who won't ever get to experience it.

Fun - Some people don't do a lot of laughing at work. I, on the other hand, do. I work in a bar, and bars are where people go to have fun. My business is your pleasure, sure, but it's my pleasure, too, quite a bit of the time. It's not always fun and games, but it certainly is that way a greater percentage of the time than the average office job. I tell jokes, meet people, dress up, listen to music. If I'm not enjoying something or someone, I simply walk away and do something I like more. As if all that weren't enough, I get to walk around naked with a bunch of beautiful women who are all doing the same.

Friends - Some of the best I've ever had. I learned to love strippers, and I'll do it until my dying day. I love how unpretentious they are, how bawdy and rowdy and boisterous, how sweet and nurturing they can be; I love how sexuality pours from some and boils over in others, how it rises like the scent of flowers. I love finding out that my waitress used to be a stripper and discovering instant kinship and connection. I love the lifelong membership in the sisterhood.

It's not just the strippers, either. I've met some of the most interesting people in my life on the receiving end of a dance, had profound conversations with my top off, made earthshaking connections and a few bucks at the same time.

Sex - What's not to love? My job is to titillate, to excite. The spiciest part of life is a day at the office for me. I turn people on and make them forget for a little while about the mundane concerns and responsibilities we all have to face. I work in a business where people are routinely taken far outside the realm of their normal routine, and every day I get to see the expressions and hear the exclamations that experience inspires. Every culture has found ways to celebrate sex, and I'm happy to be part of one of the ways we do it in ours.

My life is bright and colorful and musical, filled with laughter. I have enough to eat, my house is warm, I work when I want to and stay home when I don't. I have the best friends I could ever have wanted, and meet more lovely people all the time. I have a huge reservoir of memories and impressions to carry with me, next to my heart, for the rest of my life. Life is good, and I'm deeply and humbly grateful. I hope I can earn my good fortune, and pass it along.

Happy Thanksgiving.