Happy Thanksgiving

The weatherman says winter's comin', but he sounds more hopeful than convinced. We've had an unseasonably long, warm autumn so far. I'm not complaining. All the leaves are off the Aspens and the neighbors are puttin' up Christmas lights.

We've had the Beagle one year now; he was the Christmas gift last year. He's always slept in a pen in my son's room, but this week we've started letting him sleep in the La-Z-Boy recliner. As I walked past him early this morning, he was on his back, snoring, with all four legs up in the air like a dead armadillo on the shoulder of the road. Upon seeing him, the only word that came to mind was happy. Should the thief cometh at the midnight hour, I'm betting he'll happily sleep right through it.

During our weekly visit to the public library, I witnessed a lady make a spectacle of herself in front of God and these witnesses. She and her son were both on the public computers and he exclaimed well what do I do now? She violently backed her chair and stood and said whatsa matter with you? Can't you figure it out? Her explosion was easy to hear, libraries being places of quiet and all. She looked up and our eyes met. Truth is, jr. had probably interrupted her 75 times before we walked in and couldn't he understand that she was trying to google something really important and he just kept asking and the 76th time she lost it. I immediately went to the front desk to pay my 70 cent fine. The librarian said oh, John, we'll take care of it next time. Blessing and cursing out of the same library. My lord.

I watched a news clip last night about a church in our area going green. The young, spiffy preacher stood before those assembled and waxed eloquently about stewardship and talked later to the reporter of proper water usage and the right bulbs. Something in me wondered if spiffy knew how utterly stupid it all sounded. We'll do about anything to avoid going red; being people of the blood won't make the news. I'm about ready for a John the Baptist type to come out of the wilderness, scratchin' himself, with locust legs in his beard, screaming Repent! But we didn't listen then, so I'm not sure we would now. Unless we were all in libraries.

A young lady in our office brought a homemade apple pie to work yesterday. I wasn't hungry when it was officially cut and tasted, but there was a little left later in the day so I took a piece and went back to my cubicle and ate it. It tasted so good I found tears in my eyes; it tasted golden, humble. Earlier in the day I'd encountered a man who was doing everything he could to come across as not humble, in charge, authorial. Maybe we should have given him the whole pie. Then again, I don't know if that would help. Maybe he never had a Beagle as a kid or his mom yelled at him in the library.

Went to the mall last night with my oldest two. They both needed winter coats; weatherman says it's comin'. We walked through several stores, looking, evaluating. Most all the salespeople were standing around the registers talking to one another. Nobody was buying anything, so I guess they thought hell, might as well visit a little. We finally found some coats they liked and they just happened to be on sale. I paid with cash. As the teenaged employee was counting out my change, I asked him about the return policy; it threw his mental counting totally off. He looked at me like whatsa matter with you? Can't you see I'm counting? He finished his counting and gave me the correct change. I disarmed him with ya' did good. Happy Thanksgiving. He blushed and smiled.

I walked out into the crisp night air with my son by my side and my daughter ridin' piggyback; her feet were hurting because she wore her boots without any socks. I've probably told her 75 times not to do that, but the 76th time allowed me to piggyback my little girl one more time in this long, warm autumn. I felt as happy as a Beagle in a La-Z-Boy.

Happy Thanksgiving. May all your pets sleep contented. May homemade apple pie find its way to your piehole more often and tears find their way to your eyes. May all your library fines be waved away until next time. May you find what you need on sale. And may your children stay children, just a little bit longer. Winter's comin'.


  1. Happy Thanksgiving to you, my shameful, dirty, not-so-spiffy, thinker of thoughts and writer of words. Your Thanksgiving post, well, "ya done good." My Thanksgiving is already brighter, thanks to your wonderful word-smything.

  2. Well, you succeeded (or did I?)...sitting in my cubicle with tears in my eyes. I guess you know who I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving and always. You did good.

  3. Thanks, Pastor Mark. Say, how'd you find me? I'm guessing I'm on the universal "please pray for these sinners" list and you found me there, but then again, maybe not.

  4. Rich,

    Part of my life's mission is to get grown men in cubicles to cry. When they're wiping their eyes, I'll sneak by and steal the apple pie.

    Yes, I'm thankful for you too, my good friend. Very thankful.

  5. I've currently made it my goal to be as happy as a beagle in La-Z-Boy...

    Thanks to you, for always giving me fresh perspective and somethin' to think about..even when I don't comment..I'm thinkin' :)

    Blessings to you and yours from way down south, my friend...

  6. You inspire me to look for more humble moments like this. Thanks for making the ordinary the place to be.

  7. Tiffani,

    Big blessings all over you and your kin. Enjoy the days.

  8. Erica,

    Thanks for your words. Yeah, we should start a movement: Ordinary - the place to be!! We could do rubber bracelets, screensavers...or just enjoy the moments.


  9. I greatly enjoy moments at "The Shame" each week. Thanks for blessing us all with your words.

  10. happy thanksgiving john. Lurve your authentic gladitudiosity. Hope you have at least one lazy boy beagle day over the holiday.