The night air was cold, make that freezing cold, and I could see my breath proceed me as I made my way towards the lobby entrance. The two-story structure absolutely beamed with light from an enormous gold chandelier and that light spilled out the wide entry doors, guiding my path on the circle drive at my feet. My mission on this particular evening was to deliver a quart of orange juice to my friend Dorothy Powers. Dorothy lives in a retirement home. She's a cheerful trooper in her nineties and never asks a favor. That's why, earlier in the day, when she mentioned her orange juice need it was my pleasure to fulfill.

Out on the driveway I walked past a petite lady walking her big dog. The woman and her dog made for an interesting pair. The woman wore an enormous full-length, brown fur coat with matching hat. The coat looked warm and toasty while at the same time incredibly weighty. The dog was a big French poodle, a distinguished looking dark gray animal with the distinctive poodle hair cut. The lady stroked the top of the dog's head as the two walked slowly towards the building.

"Good girl," the woman said reassuringly to the silent dog. The dog seemed oblivious to my presence and never even looked my way.

I signed in with the desk clerk and headed for the elevator. The long wait for an elevator in this building is legendary and tonight was no exception. Just as the elevator arrived I was joined by the woman with the dog.

"I've got the door," I said as the two got in.

Apparently thinking that she recognized me, the woman turned her head away from the dog and instead in my direction.

"Oh Sam, thanks," she said.

"I'm Alan," I said.

"Sorry," the lady replied, as she explained that I sounded a lot like Sam, one of the employees at the home.

I asked her for her floor, then pushed our respective destinations - and off we went. As we made the slow assent the lady and I exchanged small talk. The dog ignored me and sat quietly close alongside the woman.

Mine was the lower of the floors and when we arrived I bid my elevator companions both a good evening.

"Nice to meet you, Alan," the woman said as the elevator doors clamored shut.

Down at the end of the hall and inside her door I found my friend Dorothy in her tiny galley kitchen making an evening tea. While I put the orange juice in her refrigerator I explained that I had met Dorothy's neighbor with the big poodle.

"She's good with names," I offered. I mentioned this because I am not good with names and admire those who work at it. The lady with the poodle clearly worked at it.

"Oh that's Betty," my friend explained. "She recognizes everyone by their voice. Some folks don't even realize she is blind."

Despite the warmth of Dorothy's little kitchen, a slight chill washed over me as I appreciated the fact laid before me. How could that possibly be? And then, despite the feeling of awe that had gripped over me, I blurted it out:

"A seeing eye... poodle?"

And we two shared a chuckle.

Thanksgiving Day is once again upon us, and it couldn't have come at a better time. We live in a time when the daily news is of lack and loss. The drum beat is focused on what we have lost, what we don't have.

Perhaps a reminder to be grateful is preciously what the national psyche needs. Less emphasis on what's not and more gratitude for what is - that's what I'm thinking.

A warm coat on a frigid night, a toasty home to return to, a trusted companion at one's side, such simple sounding blessings. We can be blind to what is there before us, or we can reach out and see, truly see the blessings all about. Gratitude is the magnifying lense our nation needs just now.

Happy Thanksgiving to all our readers.