At Thanksgiving, I always start at the top of my list and say

When Christie Brinkley declares, “At Thanksgiving, I always start at the top of my list and say I’m grateful for friends, family, and good health. Then I get more superficial... like being thankful for my Louboutins,” she gives us both humor and wisdom. On the surface, it is a playful remark about shoes, yet beneath it lies a teaching about the hierarchy of gratitude and the way the human heart orders its treasures. She begins with what is eternal—friends, family, and health—and only after honoring these pillars does she descend to the lighter joys of life. Her words are both a confession and a lesson: that gratitude belongs first to the essentials, and only afterward to the adornments.

The origin of this reflection is rooted in the practice of Thanksgiving, a season not only of feasting but of remembrance. At such times, we are called to pause and name the things we hold most precious. Brinkley, a woman who has known both the glare of fame and the warmth of family, speaks out of her own ordering of values. She shows that even in a life touched by wealth and luxury, the soul knows that love and health come before fashion and possessions. By beginning her list with these, she honors what truly sustains life.

This hierarchy is echoed in history. Consider Cicero, the Roman statesman and philosopher, who declared that gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues but the parent of all the others. Cicero himself enjoyed wealth and status, but in his writings he often praised friendship, family, and the health of the body above material things. Like Brinkley, he knew that the finest possessions—palaces, jewels, or even shoes—were nothing compared to the bonds of love and the gift of vitality. Both voices remind us to order our gratitude rightly: essentials first, ornaments second.

And yet, Brinkley’s mention of her Louboutins—luxury shoes with their iconic red soles—carries its own subtle wisdom. For she does not scorn the superficial; she embraces it with humor. This reveals that joy need not be austere. After giving thanks for what truly matters, there is still room to delight in the little indulgences that make life colorful. The ancients, too, understood this. The Greeks spoke of eudaimonia, a flourishing life, where virtue and necessity stood firm, but where beauty and pleasure also had their place. Thus, her thankfulness for both the profound and the playful reflects the wholeness of life.

There is also humility in her words. By openly calling her second list “superficial,” she admits that not all gratitude is equal in weight. But she does not hide it. Instead, she shares it openly, laughing at herself while still rejoicing in her blessings. This honesty teaches us that gratitude is not about perfection, but about truth. To be thankful for small pleasures, even frivolous ones, does not diminish our gratitude for life’s essentials—it completes it. For joy is made of both the deep and the light, the eternal and the passing.

The lesson for us is clear: when we count our blessings, begin always with the foundations—family, friends, health, love, purpose. Let these stand at the top of the list, for they are the pillars without which all else collapses. Then, if your heart delights in smaller things, do not despise them. Be thankful for the little comforts, the objects of beauty, the moments of laughter. For life is a tapestry woven of both the serious and the lighthearted, and to give thanks for both is to honor the whole of existence.

Practical wisdom follows: make your own list, as Brinkley does. Each day or each season, pause to name aloud what you are thankful for. Begin with what cannot be replaced—your loved ones, your health, the gift of life itself. Then add the smaller joys without shame: your favorite song, a warm meal, even a beloved possession. This practice orders the soul, teaching it to value what matters most, while still rejoicing in the beauty of little things.

Thus, in the words of Christie Brinkley, we are reminded that gratitude is both solemn and playful, deep and light. To be thankful is not only to honor the weight of life, but also to delight in its ornaments. Begin with the eternal, embrace the fleeting, and carry joy in both—so that your thanksgiving may be complete, and your heart at peace.