REALITY: Giving Thanks

I’ll get back to Literature shortly, but right now I’m sitting in the shop replacing the plug end of an electrical extention cord and with pliers and knife I think of one more thing I am thankful for.  My dad had three girls, but the best of both worlds.  One joined him in his enthusiasm for high school and college football and basketball.  One gave him the break he needed from the  shopping he hated.  And one watched and learned all he had to teach about mechanical, plumbing and electrical repairs, carpentry, painting, and other fun stuff.  And all three of us stuffed him with cakes and pies and the grossest ice cream sundaes he loved.  My mom gave us the love of fine things and whatever we couldn’t buy, she taught us to make.  We sewed dresses and gowns and business suits and curtains; rehemmed skirts from twenty-six inches to twelve when the style struck.  I had sisters who could (mostly) keep secrets, aunts and uncles who came for the holidays, a babcia and dziadziu who spoke broken English but always let us know we were loved.  Friends who shared, teachers who inspired, men who left but left something good from each bit of stay.  I have freedom and the love of a husband, people who in whether a minute or years are still teaching me life and the nature of man.  I am thankful to God or what force I hope to exist, and I hope you too are as wealthy as I and give thanks for the bounty we have.