A Bushel of Thanks

I’ve written on this page before about a cherished tradition my family once had of putting up a Thanksgiving Tree on our living room wall in mid-November each year. My wife is uniquely gifted when it comes to creative handicrafts (and cooking, too, but if I follow that train of thought we'll be here for a week!).

Every year, she would somehow transform a stack of brown paper grocery bags into a whimsical tree trunk and branches. Then, using yellow, orange and red construction paper, she’d cut out dozens upon dozens of autumn leaves about the size of your hand. We would put those blank leaves into a basket on the dining room table. As Thanksgiving approached, any family member with something to be thankful for would take a blank construction paper leaf from the basket, write their name and that particular sentiment on the leaf with a marker and tape the leaf to one of the brown paper branches on the Thanksgiving tree.

By the time Thanksgiving Thursday rolled around each year, our “tree” was in full Autumnal bloom with yellow and orange leaves of thanks from every member of our family and relatives or friends who may have stopped by to visit. The tree was always a thing of beauty – each year similar to others, yet with distinctively different thanks given from each of us.

Today, our “kids” are scattered from Kailua to Missoula and from San Diego to Santa Clarita. That, plus the reality that two of them have their own young families, in-laws who not-surprisingly also want time with them, the miles between us all, our busy lives (and throw in a shaky economy to really mess things up) – it all combines to create a situation that simply doesn’t allow us to gather together for Thanksgiving these days. Life happens, right?

I miss those days. But while our wall may not have had a tree on it on recent Thanksgivings, I’d like to take the opportunity to express my thankfulness in a slightly more public way. And so, with your indulgence, I’ll pull out just a few of my “leaves” from this year’s bushel, namely:

I’m profoundly thankful for the privilege this year of celebrating 25 years of marriage to my beautiful, patient, talented and devoted (among her many other qualities!) bride. In a rapidly changing culture that increasingly discounts the foundational importance of strong marriages, I don’t take our cherished union for granted and pray that I never give my wife a reason to think that I do. I am a blessed and grateful man, indeed.

I’m thankful that our four kids have grown into responsible, thriving persons who love God, love life and love this country.

I’m thankful for four beautiful, healthy, happy and growing grandkids. God willing, we’ll be blessed with many more in the coming years (along with the time, energy and resources to visit them all often!)

I’m thankful for cold and rainy days, dry firewood, a good roof and a sleepy old dog.

I’m thankful for contemporary technology like Facebook, Skype, IM’s, emails and smartphones. With the airline industry and Homeland Security teaming up to make travel costlier than ever (in terms of both finances, time and personal dignity), today’s technology has been a godsend for staying in touch.

I’m thankful that the nearby bucolic burg of Montrose, CA is still the same sleepy, home-town place it was when my mom would drop me off in front of the old, long-gone single-screen movie theater on Honolulu to catch the latest double-feature with my best-buds.   

I’m thankful for Robin Goldsworthy (Publisher/Editor) and her tireless CV Weekly staff, its loyal and growing multitudes of subscribers, advertisers and supporters who have made the publication of this paper possible each week for well over two years now.

I have many more leaves, but no more space. So I’ll close by wishing you and yours a day to surround yourselves with the warmth of food, friends, family and faith.

I’ll see you ‘round town.

Note: This is a post of my column first published yesterday, 11.24.11, in the Crescenta Valley Weekly newspaper (cvweekly.com).

© 2011 WordChaser, Inc.

Looking Back, Looking Ahead

What a week. I’m sure more than a few regular readers will think this week’s post will be about the royal pain in the … er, I mean …the royal wedding of last Friday. With the deconstruction of societal norms in full swing, I admit it was wonderful seeing such an unabashed celebration of traditional marriage, in the mother of all churches no less, between one man and one woman (how quaint!). Having said that, the fawning and slobbering mass of press corps camped out in London for days on end was nothing short of pathetic. It’s difficult to think of these folks as serious journalists when their “reporting” was more in keeping with People magazine or Entertainment Tonight. And to think that the major networks have closed a majority of their foreign bureaus in cost-saving measures. Yet, they certainly had the money to send Katie and Barbara and Matt and Al and Meredith and a first-class jumbo jet full of pampered news readers to London for a week or more of inane blather on everything from hats and dresses to exposes on the gardening shed where Kate Middleton’s mum began her online party favor business. Blimey. 

And for all of that energy and expense invested in the wedding of the decade (or at least since Lady Diana married Prince Charles in the farce of the century), the story was all but abandoned within two days as news from Pakistan commanded everyone’s focus. Breaking news was that Osama bin Laden – a truly evil man who had successfully hidden from the Western world for almost a decade, had not only been located, but had died from the sudden onset of lead poisoning courtesy of the US Navy SEALS Team Six.

I’ll only say that I’m torn between immense pride in our military’s special forces (who serve with the same unrivaled levels of excellence and sacrifice no matter who their Commander In Chief might be), and my gut reaction to the cringe-worthy, mob-like public displays of euphoria at the killing of another human – no matter how deserving of death that person may have been. As much as I love seeing crowds chanting “U! S! A!”, there’s something sobering and unsettling in many of those eyes. Patriotism is one thing. A lot of this celebration seems more like blood lust. I could be wrong, and hopefully I am.

Also, some of the loudest celebrants have been people I’ve seen adamantly opposing the death penalty for other, less-notorious crimes. What gives?   

The surprisingly powerful and sustained winds that blew through my community of La Crescenta this past weekend made me consider discussing the recent devastation and loss of life throughout Alabama. After all, with a tornado season that has already exacted a historic toll on thousands of our fellow Americans, I can certainly tolerate my trash cans being blown around the yard by Santa Anas.

 

Each of the subjects above has been covered ad nauseam, however. Besides which, I’ve already tested the limits of your tolerance for troubling topics with my column of last week. And by the way, I can’t thank you enough for your many heartfelt emails of condolence at the passing of my dog, Sierra. We have some wonderfully compassionate people living in these foothills.

In spite of all the major news stories of late, the events most on my mind right now are much closer to home. For example, next week my wife and I will drive down to Point Loma to help pack up our youngest son’s dorm and bring him back home after his freshman year away at college. When we dropped him off last August, this date seemed impossibly far away. Now it’s just around the corner and I like that. A lot. Unfortunately, his homecoming will be short lived. He’ll be leaving again the second week of June for a summer-long job at Hume Lake Christian Camp.

The same weekend we’re in San Diego, another son will be loading his pickup to begin the 1,200 mile drive home from Missoula where he’s been studying wildlife biology this school year. With our blessing, he recently decided to apply for official Montana state residency next year, so this will be his last summer home between semesters. Let the record show that we fully intend to enjoy every moment he’s home. He’s been in Montana since last August, so for the first time in years he and I didn’t attend the annual opening of fishing season (a belated Merry “Fishmas” everyone!) in the Sierras this past Saturday. We have a lot of catching (up) to do.

Just this week my wife and I also received our official wilderness permit that allows us to attempt the hike to the summit of 14,505 foot Mt. Whitney at the end of summer. The keyword here is “attempt.” Let the training hikes begin!

So, let the Royals celebrate, the U.S. military congratulate, and the people of Alabama commiserate. I’ve got my mind on our kids coming home, on a summer that’s almost here and a calendar full of challenge and adventure. Bring it! And if we’re not too busy, hopefully, I’ll see you ‘round town.

Note: This is a longer, edited version of my column first published yesterday (5.5.11) in the CV Weekly newspaper (cvweekly.com).

© 2011 WordChaser, Inc.