Our little New England town of 1,400 is nestled in the Berkshire Hills. The scenery with its lakes and ponds is lovely year round and spectacular in the fall. All our inhabitants have enough to eat; live in houses with at least two to four bedrooms, have modern bathrooms and kitchens; and wear colorful warm clothes in the winter. The local supermarkets are stuffed with delicacies from around the world surpassing the opulence of the wealthiest pharaohs and emperors of old. Gauging from the parking lots, we reach this opulence in late model shiny cars.

      It wasn't always that way. Not that the town wasn't always prosperous. But even 50 years ago the houses in the area had no central heating or electricity. New England gets cold in the winter with long winter nights. When we vacationed here during my childhood many of the water wells were outside the houses, and toilet facilities meant out-houses. To have hot water we had to heat it on the wood stove - the wood stove also heated the living quarters. The bedrooms were frigid. So early during winter evenings we'd run upstairs and put hot irons, which had been sitting on top of the wood stove, at the foot of each bed.

      Of course the houses and apartments of the larger towns of western New England were electrified, had indoor plumbing and coal-fired central heating. But none of the supermarkets were stocked with delicacies from around the world. Nor did even the most upscale homes have the conveniences of dishwashers, TV's, VCR's, computers, washing machines, dryers, etc, that most everyone in our little town possesses today.

      Are the children of the town, or even their parents, aware of how much more luxurious our life is now compared to that of just a short time ago? Are there feelings and expressions of gratitude for what previous generations have achieved of which we are the beneficiaries? Oddly enough the reverse is frequently the case. We seem to be suffering from a kind of historical amnesia, unaware of what life was like in the immediate past.

      Jack and Julie who live down the road from me regularly voice the general sentiment almost as a refrain. "There are so many things, so many toys for our children we can't afford. We'll never achieve the living standard of our parents."

      Both Jack and Julie are employed; Jack as second in command of a maintenance crew, Julie as a part-time clerical associate. They represent the non-professional segment, with their income at the lower end of the community. Nevertheless, they are owners of a seven-room house - a shrewd buy - which is located on a nine-acre lot. Jack drives an elderly pickup (elderly means it's seven years old), Julie a two year old Ford station wagon. Both are somewhat embarrassed that these vehicles are not the latest models and have "cheap" pedigrees. To my unsophisticated eyes their vehicles are shiny and hard to distinguish from the more recent and expensive ones. However, to them they represent a compromise - not really what they would want to own - if only they could afford the real thing.

      And those in our town who can afford a Mercedes or an Audi, are they feeling less deprived? Not really. Fairly typical are the O'Neills, owners of both an Audi and a Mercedes and one of the largest houses. They too voice Jack and Julie's discontented refrain. "There's so much we can't afford."

      But are theirs and Jack and Julie's living standards really below that of their parents at the same stage in life? Their parents didn't have the computer, the VCR, the dishwasher, although they did have a primitive washing machine, but no dryer. Nor did the parents have cable access to every possible TV channel, on which Jack and Julie spend about $40 per month. Both their parents had houses in local towns. But these were considerably smaller, on one-quarter acre lots, with just one bathroom.

      So why is there a general feeling that we are worse off than our parents? Why does Jack and Julie's eldest daughter, who has just entered first grade, already give voice to a sense of deprivation? The parents complain that all three of their little girls "keep wanting more and more. And when we get them what they want they don't really enjoy the new toys they just got. They stop playing with them after just a few minutes. They're already bored with them."

      When I drive past Jack and Julie's house on returning with delicacies from the supermarket in my own shiny red car I see the broken-hearted toys lying around their yard, unused and unloved. Alas, in their less sophisticated way the children are reflecting adult feelings and perceptions. For of course that is what Jack and Julie's three little girls are doing. They are mirroring the general mood of "more, more, we have the right to demand more. This is not good enough. It could be so much better without any drawbacks. It was so much better in the good old days." But of course it wasn't better in the good old days. No one then lived in the comfort of today's houses. And only rarely did people live as long as we do today. There were untreatable diseases that killed not only the old, but also numerous children.

      Are we just being bad mannered by not expressing gratitude for the luxuries, the longer life, the plethora of entertainment that is now ours? Would the polite manners of saying "thank you" for all this abundance merely represent a routine ritual, having little meaning? There are occasions when that's all there is to "thank you." But that's for the little, the unimportant things.

For the real things, for the biggies that matter, an expression of "thank you" is much more than a mere ritual. It is a sign that something of value has been received. It's how we indicate not only to others but also to ourselves, a feeling of gratitude. And so the saying of "thank you" rewards both the giver and the receiver. For before we can delight in a gift, we have to be aware we have received something desirable. By articulating appreciation we get the big dividend - the pleasure of enjoying the gift.

      So why are we denying ourselves the enjoyment that comes with the realization that most of us are leading luxurious lives? Why can't we feel and express "thank you" for the opulence that is now ours? Is it because of the negatives, such as the smog and crime in our cities, the horrendous weapons in the world's arsenals, the insect sprays that the latest research shows are deadly poisons for humans as well as insects? We are indeed surrounded by grave problems, problems we must face, concerns that we must deal with. But despite these critical liabilities, most of us in the developed world are living longer, in more comfortable surroundings, with many more amenities. Never before have so many people had so much.

      Then why is there a lack of awareness of the affluence that is ours - a lack of appreciation that denies us the pleasure of enjoying this abundance? As Jack and Julie's little girls demonstrated, the lack of awareness can go so far as to deny children the delight of enjoying their spectacular modern toys. We hear youngsters, like their parents, demanding "more, more, I want, I need more. I need the expensive brand!"

Failing to acknowledge the opulence that is ours and implying that life has gone downhill has transmitted to many youngsters that they are not being given what they deserve, what they have the right to demand. Children have always imitated the adult world. And so when we, the adults, don't say "thank you" we are depriving the youngsters of something that could and should have been theirs. We are dispossessing them of the pleasure that comes with enjoying the very bounty that is now ours.

      Nor are these feelings restricted to just our town or even our country. The cover of the August 14, 2000 issue of the magazine DER SPIEGEL, (it's the German version of TIME and NEWSWEEK) shows a cartoon of a youngster in the latest outfit, including sneakers of course, with an outrageous spoiled-brat expression. In a series of articles the magazine discusses the excessive demands of "more, more, I have a right to more. How can I face my classmates if I don't carry the right backpack, wear the right designer jeans?" One of the articles cites a court case of a welfare mother whose expense voucher for her child allowed for "only" a Woolworth backpack. She sued; claiming that by carrying a non-designer backpack her child would be labeled a welfare case and therefore face discrimination. The mother won her suit in the German courts.

      Asia is beginning to see a similar cultural phenomenon. In a recent issue of the English language edition of LOOK JAPAN, the magazine had a lengthy article, with pictures, showing middle class schoolgirls seeking out sugar daddies in order to get the wherewithal to buy the latest designer outfits. Many of Japan's children, like ours, are demanding "more, more." And like ours, their demands are accompanied by a lack of enjoyment of the same "more, more." Will we soon hear similar cries from China's children?

      How have these excessive demands with their want of gratitude and therefore enjoyment of our abundance come about? I suspect this phenomenon is linked to a deficient knowledge and therefore appreciation of what life was like even 50 years ago.

Because schools the world over have shunned the teaching of 20th century history, Europe and Japan's children, like ours, are ignorant of the medical and technological advances that followed World War II (a war about which they also know little). Not knowing history has had serious consequences. For by not knowing and therefore understanding the past we are denying our children and ourselves the pleasure of enjoying the luxurious present.

      Would children listen if we described what life was like not so long ago? When one of our town's elders takes local children on a tour to the tiny one-room schoolhouse that until recently would have been theirs, there is genuine excitement. Both the children and their parents are astonished at the cramped quarters. Even greater amazement greets the realization that the schoolhouse had neither heat, electricity, nor running water. And that the little shed in the back was the out-house. No running water meant no modern toilet facilities. Needless to say, the out-house also had no heat. There's even greater surprise when the elder tells the youngsters and their parents that this was once his schoolhouse, and that there were no school buses to take him to school. Instead he had an hour's walk, even during the winter's snow and ice. That has real meaning; for we all know that western New England has genuine winters, not those mamby pamby ones of the southern states.

      Of course our elder is a great storyteller. He makes the one-room schoolhouse with its lack of amenities come alive for both parents and their youngsters. However, the interest and excitement shown by the town's children tell us that meaningful presentations can spark interest and ultimately understanding of what life was like in the immediate past. We can impart an appreciation of what has been achieved, and how fortunate we are to live in the present. We can transmit this truth about our affluence just as effectively as we have transmitted the false impression of deprivation. Perhaps only by enjoying what has been given can we meaningfully face the imperfections of the achievements. Knowledge and gratitude can confer strength to the determination to correct what is detrimental; give us resolve to fix what has gone wrong.

      Teaching history, so that our youngsters will know the past and understand the sumptuousness of the present, is step one. But more is necessary. There is that important step two, the one that deals with learning how to express, and therefore feel "thank you" - how to make it meaningful - avoiding the kind of "thank you," that's empty. Too often we see the pointless, empty exercise; the perfunctory "thank you", muttered, without eye contact, as the youngster rushes off to something deemed more important. So how do we underscore that a "thank you" is a consequential act, very special and significant? From personal experience I know what worked for me. It was my mother's method, based on generations of parental wisdom. I have successfully used this approach and encouraged others to adopt it on numerous occasions.

      My mother's instructions, which began when I was only a toddler and about to receive a present, went something like this: "I will show you what big people do, what we adults do when we get a present - how we say 'thank you'. Before we say 'thank you' we smile, we look at the person's face, then we look into their eyes. And that's when we say 'thank you'. Then we try to think, 'what is it about this present that I really like?' When we've figured out why we like the present, we go on and say so. That makes it a real 'thank you'. It's how an adult says 'thank you'."

      I wasn't very good at the last part of the instructions. That took time and growing up. But being eager to master grown-up ways I did my best to make my "thank you" really mean something - "the way adults do it."

Children have always been eager to learn adult ways. Which is why my mother's introduction to her instructions: "This is how big people do it - how adults say 'thank you'" continues to get concentrated attention.

     About the same time that my mother described the meaningful way to say "thank you" she introduced me to the participation phase - best described as the "wow" phase. It taught me the implications of a "thank you" and went something like this: "Look at that! What a fun (wonderful, clever, etc.) thing! We're going to have such a good time with it. Oh, you will enjoy it so much!" Then she proceeded to depict how and why the gift was something to delight in. Note: her descriptions also helped in teaching me why I liked a present, and how to express that to the giver.

     A similar approach was used for vacations, picnic outings, even for excursions to the supermarket. "Wow! Are we ever going to have a great time (exploring, gadding about, eating this, etc.)." Afterwards came the declaration: "That was great! That was fun, we must do it again. . .!" followed by an emphatic rendition of "thank you dear (God, Auntie, ancestors, friend, etc). . ." which linked gratitude to enjoyment.

      Also included in the expressions of "thank you" were frequent allusions to how fortunate we were to live in an age of modern conveniences, of great medical advances. There were extended discussions of what life had been like in the past, the advances and the comforts that had been achieved since the dawn of human awakening. My parents described how much more abundant times were now than during their own childhood. These historical references became an integral part of our happy celebrations - celebrations that are the bonuses that come with the saying of "thank you."