This Thanksgiving Day, I’m humbly grateful.

My mom is still around to dispense laughs and wisdom, and our family’s healthy and happy. We all get along, and when there are differences, we steer conversations around until we find neutral ground.

As is my usual practice in this space, it’s the little things I enjoy and am thankful for. So here goes. I’m thankful for:

Back-up cameras in my car. I’ve never been good at backing up my car. When I was learning to drive, I wanted to practice handling the car while in reverse. The result? I backed into the house and pushed the wall in a few inches.

My brother still teases me.

“It’s not like it wasn’t, oh, let’s see, as big as a house,” Jimmy will say. I’ll throw something at him, and he waits for another opportunity.

Elastic. I remember the days of trying to button pants that were too small. All day, I’d feel like someone was cutting me in half. When they finally put elastic in dress slacks, it was a great day.

I think all pants should have elastic waists, and elastic should be required in all children’s clothes. In fact, elastic would work in almost every garment on the market.

Back scratchers. When I was young, a back scratcher was one of us, standing behind my mom or dad, scratching their backs for what seemed like hours.

My sister, Diane, was the one usually summoned because she has long fingernails and scratches like a pro. The rest of us would wimp out after about 5 minutes.

Now I have a set of bamboo back scratchers and they’re fabulous. At all times, there’s one by my desk, one in my car and one in the living room.

Restaurant drive-through lanes. I remember having to get out of the car, rain, snow, heat, and run inside a restaurant to pick up our burgers and fries. Our parents considered us the door dashers when we were young.

Now, if there’s not a drive through at an eatery, I keep driving until I find one that does not require me to get out of my car.

The service can be slow and sometimes you can’t understand the person on the other end of the speaker. But I’ll take drive-through over finding a parking space, dashing through the parking lot and standing in line every day of the week.

Air fryers. No more warming day-old pizza up in the oven, further drying it out. Now we can reheat pizza, grill hot dogs and bake chicken nuggets in minutes.

There are some things I have mixed feelings about. These are great inventions, but in some instances, they’re annoying and take more time than they’re worth.

Text messaging. Yes, texting is quick and convenient. In some situations, a quick text is the best way to get your message across. But I always mistype a word in the first line and have to go back, letter by letter, and fix it.

Text messaging is also frustrating. Once the text is sent, it’s gone. You can delete the message, but the person on the other end knows you deleted it and will always wonder what you said that needed to be erased from consciousness.

Two-step encryption. This is the extra layer of security where you type in your password. Before you can access your email or a television channel, a code is sent to your phone. You have to type it in and then you can get to your email or a website.

My phone is seldom next to me when I’m at the computer, so I have to go find it before I can log in. It’s bad enough I can’t remember passwords. Now I have to go through a two-step process just to check my email.

I understand the need for security, but it’s an aggravating extra step, especially when I’m in a hurry.

But today’s not a day to quibble about the little annoyances. It’s a day of giving thanks, reflecting on our blessings and enjoying time with the people we choose to surround ourselves with.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

 

 

For years, my sisters and sister-in-law enjoyed a holiday tradition. On the day after Thanksgiving, we’d get up at 6 a.m. and hit the malls in search of the best bargains.

We were women on a mission. Lists in hand, we’d visit every store to make sure we got the best deals and cross off as many items as possible.

We’d have lunch at a restaurant in the mall because, let’s face it, you won’t find another parking spot if you leave.

Our wonderful brothers took care of all the kids at our parents’ house. They had a non-stop basketball game going on in the driveway along with burgers on the barbecue pit.

My two sisters and I would stay up talking until 2 a.m. I still remember my sister-in-law, Debra, standing over me at 5:30 a.m. She was snapping her fingers in front of my face saying “Get up! Those bargains won’t wait!”

One year, we were in Service Merchandise, a store similar to Target. We’d gotten there about 7 a.m., intent on snagging early-bird bargains. As we were walking in, our brother was walking out, bags in hand.

Jimmy said he heard us talking and decided to cash in on the Black Friday deals. He was already finished and good naturedly accused us of being slackers for getting there so late.

Our nieces always asked to come with us, but we told them they were too young. One year, we believed they were old enough to be initiated into the after-Thanksgiving Day shopping spree.

The rules were simple. No whining. No complaining. Shop fast and shop smart. The best deals had to be more than 25 percent off the retail price. The girls hung with us but about mid-morning, they had a revelation.

This wasn’t fun.

They said they would rather sleep late and hang out with their uncles and dads instead of traipsing through the mall looking for bargains.

Plus, we made them carry all the bags, so I can understand why they weren’t 100 percent on board with our tradition.

This is one of the many memories the women in our family have shared.  Now I’m creating new ones with the girls in my immediate family.

My daughters-in-law and I had a great time at a painting session a few months ago. We decided to do something creative again, so we booked a pottery making class.

Our eldest granddaughter was at a weekend Thespian Festival, and that left our other granddaughter, Kat, home. Originally it was just going to be the moms, but I called Kat’s mother and asked her to bring Kat along.

It was time for the initiation.

Having young Kat in the group was a treat for all of us. She learned her female relatives were a lot of fun, wise – my word, not hers – and imaginative. We learned how creative she can be and also how funny and smart she is.

The end results were fun and, in our eyes, beautiful. Some of the pieces were a little lopsided, some not as tall or as wide as we’d hoped but they were unique in their own way.

There were wine goblets, bowls and, the piece de resistance, a pitcher Ingrid made, complete with a handle and flowers on the side.

The baton is being passed. My sister told me the best thing I can spend money and time on in life is experiences.

She’s right.

Heads up painting studio. A group consisting of fun female family members are headed your way, laughter, talent and love in tow.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

Twenty years ago, my father passed away shortly after midnight. Early the next morning, there was a knock on my mom’s door.

Women from the church were there with dinner and dessert. They either stayed up half the night or got up at 4 in the morning to make sure we’d have something to eat.

Days later when I came home, I was unloading the car when my friend Nancy came walking up the driveway. She had dinner, a salad and a dessert for us because she knew we were bone tired, both physically and mentally.

All these years later, I’m still amazed and humbled by the act of kindness these wonderful friends gave to our family and to me.

Delivering food to a grieving family might not seem like a big gesture.

But that act of kindness reaffirms that when we think the world is against us, there are still people who care.

A friend’s father passed away unexpectedly recently.  She and her husband were out of town when they got the news, and they planned to come home, repack and then drive the two days to her parents’ house.

When they arrived home, there were a couple of boxes on their front porch. Friends had packed travel snacks, drinks and treats for them.

Her friends went the extra mile to make sure that sad road trip was a little bit easier.

All the time they were in Tennessee, her friends sent meals and flowers. Her family was covered with thoughtfulness as they worked their way through the grieving process.

Many years ago, my mom wanted to paint our living room. She worked full time and had seven kids, but she wanted to spruce up the house. Saturday morning, three friends unexpectedly showed up at our front door holding paintbrushes.

They came to help. My mom was overwhelmed by the kindnesses these neighbors showed her.

I saw the smile on my mom’s face, and those women did more than paint. In one morning, they helped an overwhelmed mother feel not so alone.

My mom’s long-time friend Mona comes to visit her every Monday. Mona can drive, so she takes my mom out to lunch and then shopping. Mona makes sure Mom has somebody to talk to and help with her errands.

To Mona, she’s enjoying being with her friend. But for us, those visits are a lifeline for our mother. We’re eternally grateful to Mona for doing what seems like a small gesture to her but, in reality, is huge to us.

When my aunt’s house flooded, friends and family arrived wearing boots and gloves and quickly salvaged as many items as possible. Best of all, every time someone walked past my aunt, they handed her a beer.

So many times throughout the day, people bestow small kindnesses and they have no idea how much that gesture means.

Someone holds the door open for us, perhaps not realizing we had an awful day at work. They let us go in front of them in the grocery store, somehow sensing we’re bone tired.

A hug, a smile, a pat on the back – they don’t cost a dime, but they are gold to someone. We usually don’t know how badly the other person needed that human connection.

We think we need to do something big to make a difference, but it’s the small things in life that have the greatest impact.

Calling a friend, taking a milkshake to someone stuck at home, and stopping by to visit a mom with young children so she has an adult to talk to.

Small things are really the big things in life.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.   

I was a bit naïve in my teenage years, especially where music was concerned. I loved singing along with the radio, not thinking deeply about the meaning of the lyrics.

Songs like “You’ve Got a Friend” were easy to understand. To this day, I don’t get what “American Pie” is all about. As I’ve gotten older, though, I somewhat understand some of the hidden meanings of songs, especially from the 60s and 70s.

“Puff the Magic Dragon” comes to mind. I thought that song was about a sweet little dragon that lived by the sea in a town with a delightful name, Honalee.

I had no clue it was about puffing drugs.

The writers claim there’s no double meaning to this song, but hey, come on, even I’m not that dumb any more.

Same goes for “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane. I thought it was about “Alice in Wonderland,” one of my favorite books. I didn’t understand all the symbolism in the book, but it was a fun tale to read.

The song is about opening one’s mind through taking psychedelic drugs. “One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small” wasn’t referring to vitamins.

Some song meanings, of course, were obvious, even to me. Even though Neil Young can’t sing his way out of a paper bag, his “The Needle and the Damage Done” was quite obvious.

Back in the day, I did figure out that Jimi Hendrix’s “Purple Haze” wasn’t about shades of violet and magenta.

It’s common knowledge The Beatles were into drugs. However, as a young teenager, I had no idea there was a double meaning to any of their songs.

I heard “Get Back” on the radio yesterday and it finally dawned on me that California grass was marijuana. I always thought Paul was singing about real estate.

I thought a “Day Tripper” was someone who took a trip for a day, like to the beach or shopping.

“Blackbird” is one of my favorite Paul McCartney songs. Some say the song is written about a bird McCartney heard singing in India. McCartney has stated the song is about the civil rights movement in the United States.

Hearing the song now, I realize the significance of the lyrics, especially for young women and people of color who continue to fight for equal rights.

“And Then Along Comes Mary” by the Association is another song where I totally missed the meaning.

I bought that 45-rpm record imagining a girl named Mary coming along, with a boy hoping she’d be his girlfriend.

That would be wrong.

“Mary” is the slang term for marijuana, according to keno.org, and that’s what the song is all about.

I never understood the meaning of the lyrics to “Horse with No Name” by America. It came on the radio the other day, and I was just as mystified as I was 40 years ago when it was first released.

I did a bit of reading about the subtle meaning of the song. Many reviewers say the song is about heroin use. Horse is a slang term for that drug.

I had no clue.

As the lyrics state, I pictured some guy riding through the desert on a horse watching the rivers dry up. If anything, I thought the words referenced pollution.

Creedence Clearwater Revival had some great songs in the 1970s.  “Fortunate Song” still resonates and has a gritty message. The song “Looking Out My Back Door” has some wacky lyrics I thought were silly.

Some think the phrase “take a ride on a magic spoon” references cocaine use. CCR’s  John Fogerty said otherwise, but I’m starting to catch on to the double meaning from songs from that era.

Same goes for “Magic Carpet Ride.” I thought the writers were telling listeners to let loose and let Aladdin’s lamp take them to a fantasy world.

No lamp like in the story. The lamp references drugs.

Fooled again.

Instead of trying to figure out the hidden meanings in songs from my high school days, I think I’ll simply rock and roll with the beat and sing the lyrics without wondering what I’m missing.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.