Thanksgiving blessings and gratitudes
Melody Columnist Ed Grisamore has a plethora of things — big and small — to be grateful for this holiday season.
Every Thanksgiving for the past 34 years, I have shared a list of blessings with readers.
Some of those blessings are big. Some are small. All are acknowledged and appreciated. My gratitude spills over like giblet gravy on a crowded Thanksgiving dinner plate.
It is for these things I am thankful:
For the love of my mother, who lived to be 96 and left a legacy of reading and writing. Her funeral was Thursday. My father’s last words to me before he died 18 years ago were, “Take care of your mama.’’ And I did. …
For the new Macon Melody newspaper and the opportunity to be on the ground floor of it. … For quiet evenings at the Gris Carlton with my best friend. … For long walks and short waits, old movies and new books, smart ideas and small miracles. … That when I log in to talk to God I don’t have to remember my password. …. For those times when I get out of my chair without producing sound effects. …
That the cicadas are gone and won’t be back for another 13 years. (By 2037, I will be so hard of hearing it won’t matter.) … For folks who live by the motto “Semper Gumby.’’ Always flexible. … For happy endings, good manners, salt life, responsible drivers, reliable Wi-Fi, tomato sandwiches, the downtown Christmas lights and little girls with lemonade stands. … That I am not a fat turkey on the aisle of the grocery store with a Butterball tattoo on my back. ….
For those days when I can wander so far out in the countryside and I can’t see or hear anything man made. … For a biological alarm clock now equipped with a snooze button as an added feature. … For my writing nook, an upstairs room I call “AMORE.” It comes from the last five letters of my last name and means “love.” …
That there is no expiration date on great music. … For longtime friends and lifetime achievement awards. … For punctual people who respect the time of others. …. For my Thursday morning peeps at Vineville Methodist, where we gather for breakfast and the power of intercessory prayer. … That Delinda and I got to visit two sister Macons – Macon, Missouri and Macon, Illinois – on one of our summer adventures. … For the old truck that cranks on a cold morning. …
For eating popsicles on the porch swing with our grandchildren, telling Toodle Woodle stories and taking turns guessing the color of the next car or truck that comes down the street. … That for the 46th straight year, I did not run in the Labor Day Road Race. … For finger food, elbow grease, dog ears and eye candy. … For first responders, second chances and my three sons. …
That we live in a house built in 1924 and is now a centenarian. … For former students who still reach out for some “Grisdom.” I will never quit teaching them. … For folks who leave their cameras at home when they help others. … That since 2005 I have been batting .000 against deer out on the highway, although I’ve nearly fouled a few off. …
For hash browns from the Waffle House, slaw dogs from Nu-Way, cold noodle salad from Tokyo Alley, hot doughnuts from Krispy Kreme, onion rings from The Varsity in Atlanta, hoe cakes from Jeneane’s, collard green soup from The Swanson House in Perry and fried green tomatoes from Steffen’s Restaurant in Kingsland. … For people who still have a story I wrote about them 20 years ago on their refrigerator door. … For my Palaver Club, where I am surrounded by smart, well-read gentlemen who respect my opinion, challenge my thinking and inspire me to be a better version of myself. …
That I can still do my own stunts, although not as gracefully. And that the statute of limitations has run out on most of the stupid things I have done in my life. … For “dirt church’’ and the beauty of the camellias and sasanquas in our backyard that bring us “winter roses.’’ … For folks who wave to you when passing through a small town, even though they don’t know you. …
For watching college football on Saturdays from noon to midnight without a shred of guilt. … That I can open my grandfather’s tackle box and hold handmade lures from the 1930s and ’40s. … For “spiritual children’’ who may not be family, but still belong to me. … That I live my life in search of stories and perfect words to tell them. …
For Delinda, Ed, Grant, Jake, Summer Sterling, Brewer,
Sterling Gray, Ginny Pope and Bennett. … For absent friends and guardian angels.
For all of your blessings, too.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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