But aren’t Catalysts great?
I swore I would not get caught up in the Thanks we see and hear all over the place at this time of the year, and yet, here I go.
And I started my gratitude back in childhood when I lived, with my family, of course, on a small farm. Five acres would seem big for the average family home-place today, but then it was what I say, a small farm.
I remember the peace and quiet of it all, and didn’t even recognize that stillness until I was older and sought to find it again, and could not. Wherever we live, today, there is little silence. Sound, is everywhere. Cars, radios, Cell phones, TV, and people. Dogs barking was a common sound back then, but now one must listen for it , and the sound is so welcome.
I am thankful for such a childhood. I ‘lived’ in a tree I could climb today (well, mentally) with a book and pocket full of raisins, and if not there, and it was summer, I was out in the tall, corn field with the same companions.
Alone, but never lonely, and I think that reaching out for that same kind of life is why, today, I am a ‘hermit’ and a member of “Raven’s Bread,” an international organization of ‘hermits’, with some living in busy cities, some apartments, others scattered around the world, and Ethel here in Murray with her wonderful neighbors. We don’t need a desert to live the eremetic life, but seek it where ever we live, and I am thankful.
I’m thankful I was able to earn my daily bread by writing, which is a done in solitude, and retired, can now continue and use this blog to reach out. Sometimes pleasing, sometimes making others wonder, and sometimes angering one or two. I have no anger, for I have learned to love all, even the upset ones. That’s Ethel.
I’m thankful for my two sons, John and Bill, and all they’ve brought into my life. Each one has brought love and joy and I thank The Source for them. Grandchildren and glory be, now two greats. Thankful???? What do you think?
I’m thankful for my home. A cottage, but it’s on land that has been home to no one but native Indians with their teepees and Bradfords, and my home sits on what was a barnyard, and the north wall to the barn’s lower level still sits in my back yard.
Thankful that the home is mine and, the way life works, I’ve been alone since 1969 (what a long time ago, when I print it out) and have never had a mortgage to pay. It’s just mine and I’m thankful for it.
I’m thankful for the people who allowed me to develop what I have, and paid me for it. Jim and Bette Cornwell, though Bette, bless her, is no longer with us. Good people. Don Robinson who helped me whet my writing skills. Bob Prince, (also now one of the missing) who taught me mechanics of the paper printing world, and Stan Youngblut, my first long-ago boss who introduced me, as a comptometer operator, so kindly into the business world when I was but a teen. Opened my eyes to the world, and I’ve never shut them since.
So thankful to my son Bill and his wife Nina, who live next door and make my solo life so much easier, especially as the two of them are experts with computers. And so thankful for computers, for what would I do without email to span the globe with? I quell to think what my life would be without email, and I say thank you over and over for it and to Bill for getting me my first one when I thought all I needed or wanted was a new typewriter. Books, blog, meeting people? How naive I was and I say thank you.
There are people in my life I could not have dreamed of when I sat in my tree or cornfield. Maria now in our valley, and Corry, in Holland, where they both were born. Tom of Chicago; Laurel of Sun City, AZ; and Wayne of Mesa, AZ; Barrie of Cedar City; Sandy of St. George; Sylvia of Seattle, and on and on. All because of the wonders of email.
And my final (but it is never final) thank you is to The Source for giving me a good body, to use, use, use, and when in need of repair, it heals and is ready to use again.
Thanksgiving? This holiday has been the catalyst to remind me of all I have. Love you all. Ethel