If there’s one thing we’re all thankful for this year, it’s that 2020 is almost over. That end can’t come fast enough as this has got to be one of the worst 12 months on record.

All of us have years that try our limits, whether it’s financial hardships, the death of loved ones or plans that didn’t go the way we wanted.

But 2020 was not only the sour apple pie of bad years, it had a bunch of rotten cherries on top.

I read a suggestion that instead of giving thanks, we should list what we’re grateful for this year. Many people keep a gratitude journal or they post what they’re thankful for, and that practice keeps them in a consistent thankful and serene state of mind.

There are quite a few things I’m grateful for this year – we had some Covid cases in our family, but none were serious. There were financial setbacks, and those remain tough, but we’re getting through those.

Our family is still strong, our mom is maintaining her independence and sense of humor and there’s a roof over our heads.

I’m always grateful for health, friends, family and faith. But because this is 2020, here are some of the little things I’m not only thankful for but also grateful for.

The ice maker in our refrigerator. I didn’t realize how much I relied on sticking a glass underneath the in-the-door dispenser and instantly enjoying a glass of ice water and crushed ice. That is until the ice maker broke.

I remember filling those old silver ice-cube trays with water – and the frustration when someone uses the last few cubes but doesn’t refill the tray.

Going to the movies. I took for granted that any day of the week, we could take in the latest Hollywood blockbuster at the local cinema, snack on a bucket of hot, buttered popcorn and enter a magical world 30 feet high.

I took for granted the thousands of artists and technicians who worked behind the scenes to create alien worlds and people so we could go beyond our wild imaginations, whether that’s behind the walls of Hogwarts Academy or on the bridge of a star cruiser in a galaxy far, far away.

The library and the printed word. The libraries here have been closed during the pandemic, and I am beyond sad. I took for granted leisure time walking between the shelves at the library, pulling out books that looked interesting and taking home the ones I wanted to spend hours reading.

Sure book stores are still open, but it’s not the same experience as in the library. Browsing in a store doesn’t come close to the quiet of the library building, the smell of those old books and the knowledge that if I don’t like the book, I can return it without having lost any money.

I miss taking my grandchildren to the library for Story Time and seeing the amazed looks on their faces as the librarian enchants them with a story. I’ve been checking books out online and having the librarian bring them to my car, but that’s not the same experience.

And since this is a time for giving thanks, the next time you have non-contact delivery of a library book, consider leaving a bag of chips for the librarian who’s getting your books, checking them out for you and then walking out to your vehicle – no matter the weather – so you can continue to enjoy the printed word.

People. Sure they can be rude. Sure they can be obnoxious. And, yes, they can be overwhelming. But people are the ones who give the best hugs. They’re the ones who, when they smile, light up your life.

They’re the ones who hold your hand when you’re scared, chat with you while you’re waiting in line and remind you that we come in all shapes and sizes and our individuality is what makes us who we are.

And when they’re no longer with us, the missing seems like a bottomless pit. And that’s when we have to remember to celebrate the here and now, not the what we lost, even in the midst of a changed reality.

I’m grateful that 2020 made me remember what’s really important in life. Perhaps 2020 wasn’t as bad a year as I thought.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

 

 

Turning on the news these days is like opening a bag filled with meat that’s been sitting in a forgotten ice chest for three days.

Awful.

To describe the surge in coronavirus cases, reporters use phrases like “skyrocketing and unprecedented reported cases” and that officials are “extraordinarily distressed” and “in crisis.”

In Texas, coronavirus cases are up over 11,000 and Fort Bend County reported an increase of 54 cases. There are hospital beds, but there won’t be for long, states worried news anchors.

College students in California are being told to stay put for the holidays, and rumors are circulating of a shutdown tougher than the one we had in March.

Elementary students are falling behind in school, teens feel isolated and alone when they’ve chosen virtual learning over face-to-face class time and college football stadiums are the loneliest million-dollar places in town.

Beloved personalities like Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg and Congressman John Lewis passed away.

On the entertainment front, “Jeopardy’s” Alex Trebek, “Black Panther’s” Chadwick Boseman and musicians Doug Supernaw and Eddie Van Halen passed away as did NBA superstar Kobe Bryant and former Miss America Phyllis George.

We had a full moon and Friday the 13^th on the same day, and not one but two hurricanes caused significant damage along the Gulf Coast.

Hurricane Iota is slamming – yes, that’s the word the weather people use – through Central America, and we’re running out of names for hurricanes for the first time ever.

But my youngest granddaughter has not let the bad news get her down. At the age of 7-1/2, Katherine is an optimistic and happy child. She looks for the good in people and in every situation that comes her way.

Rainy day? She’s in the middle of the yard, covered in mud from head to foot and perfectly happy.

On cold days, she loves drinking hot chocolate with about 50 marshmallows in the cup. While others see a rocky road, she sees opportunity for painting those rocks and turning them into works of art.

We had to go to the grocery store while she was visiting this past weekend. I have a selection of masks in my car featuring flowers, animals and super heroes. She chose one with bright yellow flowers.

As she pushed the basket down the aisle, she enthusiastically greeted every person who came her way.

Her smile and happy attitude came through the mask as her voice carried genuine happiness. Most people wished her a great day as well, and one young woman was particularly taken with Katherine’s cheeriness.

“Well good morning to you too,” she said as she stopped and looked at Katherine. “You sure are in a good mood.”

Katherine didn’t miss a beat.

“I am because it’s a great day and I hope you have a great day too,” she said bouncing up and down. The woman laughed out loud and told Katherine her day was definitely better because she was lucky enough to have met her.

I learned a lot from my granddaughter that day. Happiness is ours every single day if we allow ourselves to find the joy.

If we allow ourselves to wallow in the sad, that’s where we’ll stay.

We can spread that happiness by still wishing other people a good day and refusing to isolate ourselves any more than we already are.

We need each other. We need to look for the good because the wonderful is out there. Sometimes all we need is a young child to remind us that happiness starts in our hearts and to not let a mask or gloom and doom steal our joy.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

“You got a surprise in the mail,” my husband said as he put an envelope on the kitchen counter.

Curious, I picked up the letter.

“Congratulations. You’ve been selected for jury duty.”

My stomach sank and I banged my head on the counter. I don’t know of anyone who likes to be summoned for jury duty.

We claim we want to fulfill our civic obligation, but when it comes to actually carrying out that duty, we’d rather have a root canal.

The first time I received a jury summons was in Louisiana. I was barely an adult, so the notice thrilled me. The government believed I was adult ready.

We assembled in a courtroom – just like on television – and there were attorneys chatting around two tables. At the head of the room was a judge sitting behind an impressive raised desk.

The counselor from my high school was sitting in the front row, dabbing at her eyes. When the prosecutor announced we’d be hearing a case about a murder, I knew exactly who they were talking about – the counselor’s late husband.

He’d been killed during a robbery, and we all knew about the tragedy because it happened when I was in high school. The prosecutor asked each potential juror if they’d ever heard of the case and I told him I did and why.

The prosecutor dismissed me, and I later found out the accused tried to assault the bailiff and his own lawyer during the trial.

Conviction. A slam dunk for the jury.

The next time I was summoned was in Fort Bend County. The case involved drunk driving.

The prosecutor asked if any of the prospective jurors abstained from alcohol. I was the only one who raised my hand, and the prosecution dismissed me from that trial as well.

When I received this latest jury summons, I was a little leery. We’re still in a Covid-19 quarantine state, and I remembered that the courthouse was packed on jury days.

The letter assured us that officials were taking all precautions, but if anyone felt uncomfortable, they should notify the court.

I didn’t have a valid reason for not going, and I knew I’d feel like a bum if I didn’t fulfill my civic duty. So I got up early on jury day and headed to Richmond.

Everyone had to wear a mask, and there were blue x’s taped on the floor six feet apart all the way from the front door to the jury assembly room.

The process was orderly and organized, from the x-ray machines to the clerk who took our temperatures.

People are usually sitting side by side, but every other row was roped off. Blue painter’s tape created a box on the open rows where people could sit about six feet from each other. The room was filled, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Every step of the process was explained, either by a video or by court officials who were professional, courteous and humorous when the situation called for that.

Five hours later, all but 15 of us walked out of the justice center, and I have to say I felt both relieved and disappointed. All we had to lose was time, but the person on trial stood to lose or gain their freedom.

To know that 12 people are in charge of someone’s fate is a tremendous responsibility, and even though we might complain and look for a way to weasel out of jury duty, the experience was informative and something Americans are charged with doing.

Because of Covid-19, defendants have been waiting months for their day in court, and they deserve a fair trial and to be judged by their peers.

They, and the jurors, attorneys, judges, clerks and deputies, deserve a safe environment to conduct business.

You, the citizen, deserve to see the court system at work.

When you get that summons in the mail, don’t worry. Pack a water bottle, some snacks, a sweater, a book and a comfortable mask.

All you have to lose is some time.

All a defendant has to lose is their freedom.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

While looking at the upcoming weather change, I decided to wash the quilt on our bed. It’s too bulky for our 25-year-old washer to handle, so I searched for a nearby laundromat.

When I was in college, going to the laundromat was social time. The room was filled with college students, none of whom knew how to properly wash clothes.

Music was playing from somebody’s boom box, and we’d argue the pros and cons of the Rolling Stones vs. The Beatles.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I went into a laundromat all these years later, and I was quite surprised by what I found.

The days of shoving everything that was dirty into one small machine were over. Modern washing machines are stainless steel and can handle different size loads of dirty clothes. Dryers are quiet and efficient.

Also, I didn’t need a roll of quarters. Patrons insert a credit card in a machine on the wall, key in the amount they want put on the card and go from there. I didn’t figure this out on my own – the nice lady working there helped me out.

I’d forgotten to bring laundry detergent, but another machine sold Tide pods along with Skittles and Gardettos.

I loaded the comforter into a machine and settled in with a library book, but the people were a lot more interesting than the “whodunit” in my lap.

There was a tired young mom with three baskets full of toddler clothes and a middle-aged man who paced the aisles. I noticed there was a piece of masking tape stuck to the back leg of his jeans with $1.00 printed on it.

An older gentleman came in the back door with a clothes basket filled with Tide pods and Zip-loc bags.

Each bag had bottled water, crackers and chips. He left the plastic basket on the folding table and walked to the machines where the young mother was waiting.

He inserted a laundromat debit card, she thanked him, and he kept walking around, inserting the card in machines where other people were waiting.

When he sat down at the folding table, I asked him if he was a volunteer. He smiled and started talking.

He said he volunteered with “Hope Impacts” to help the homeless in Katy. He said those down on their luck could come to Kingsland Baptist Church on Tuesdays and Thursdays for a shower, a hot meal and change of clothes.

The ministry also offers assistance with medical and dental care, counseling and skills to help in job searches.

More importantly, those down on their luck also see a friendly, non-judgmental face and someone to treat them like a human being.

My reporter’s cynicism was in full alert, but when I saw this man helping people in a dignified way, my faith in humanity was restored.

I thought about the many ministries here in our area that help with the invisible people of society. I’ve seen the good these organizations, some of which are Helping Hands, Lunches of Love, Attack Poverty and Common Threads, accomplish with dedicated volunteers and monetary donations.

There are dozens of church and civic groups that reach out to those down on their luck, and this is the time of year when the need grows.

Being grateful is a state of mind that is nourished by helping others. If you feel a little low in that department, consider reaching out to some of the incredible organizations here in our community.

Do some research and find a group you feel would best be served by your help, either monetarily or in person.

The people you help could be those you’d never guess are down on their luck. When we all work together, we can help make this world a lot better place.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.