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COMMENTARY BY WILLIAM CARTER: Some things to be thankful for

The youngest of my many sisters suggested I write a scratch-and-sniff column for Thanksgiving this year and I almost fell for it until I remembered that beneath her Southern charm and very ladylike-encrusted exterior she is devious to the point that she – as a fellow column writer competing with me for readers – wouldn’t hesitate to set me up for humiliation and then just laugh like hell when she found out I followed her advice. I, on the other hand, being the exceptional brother that I am, almost immediately forgave her and have decided not to reveal to her that Mama thinks I am the much better writer.  Mama’s never actually said this, but she thinks it because, after all, I am her favorite child as well as the better writer despite the fact my baby sister wrote a best-seller called “Act Like You Got Some Sense” and her readers threaten to riot if her weekly column fails to appear in one of the bigger newspapers in my home state of Georgia. I would also never reveal to you that judging by the picture of my baby sister on the front of her book, she wouldn’t seem to be the type who would fart in front of the very first boyfriend the eldest of our many sisters brought home to meet our folks – even though she did – because I am not the kind of person who goes around telling deep, dark family secrets and never will be and that’s why my Thanksgiving column this year will follow the tried-and-true recipe of writing about some of the things I’m thankful for instead of doing the scratch-and-sniff thing.

I am thankful for George Foreman grills and portabella mushrooms. I’m thankful I don’t eat mayonnaise. I’m thankful for WD-40 and eight-foot step ladders. I’m thankful for the hot dill pickles Miss Dixie gives me. I’m thankful for Owen’s mama’s fried peach pies and peanut brittle. I am thankful that at-home catheters are getting much easier to use and even though I don’t need them yet by the time I do they will (hopefully) be pain-free. I’m thankful I didn’t, and still don’t, care whether or not Peyton Manning came back to Tennessee. I’m thankful for space heaters and Post-it notes and Dead Guy ale.

I am thankful I still get excited when Big-D comes home and can tell he’s excited to be home, too. I’m thankful Bear-Dog likes the Pumpkin Monkey I “won” from the claw machine at El Guadalajara Mexican restaurant and that it only cost me $17 in quarters. I’m thankful for El Guadalajara Mexican restaurant – the best in town - and that the people who run it always act like they’re glad I’m there. I’m thankful for Geritol and ibuprofen. I’m still thankful for Cheez-its…forever and always the perfect food.

I’m thankful I’m not a gloater and that I’m not even a little bit happy about the crest-fallen faces on my Republican friends or the hot, bitter tears of defeat spewing from their cry-baby, whiney eyeballs after they got their asses handed to them – again – by Barack Obama…that’s just not the kind of guy I am. I’m thankful for owls. I’m thankful me and Love-Weasel take power naps together on Saturday afternoons side-by-side in our easy chairs. I’m thankful we (finally) got new siding put on our house. I’m thankful Tall-Boy still comes around a couple of times a week to see us and sometimes brings me the latest issues of “The Walking Dead.” I’m thankful for the smile on Love-Weasel’s face when she’s thinking about her boys. I’m thankful for the staff at Caring Hands animal hospital and how they treated Bear-Dog, our other, furrier son.

I am thankful Black Friday is not a tradition in our family. I’m thankful I have beautiful nieces and weird nephews. I’m thankful for Grizzly fine cut wintergreen smokeless tobacco. I’m thankful I still don’t know how to retrieve voice messages on my cell phone. I’m thankful for oatmeal and toast on cold winter mornings. I’m thankful for nine-minute miles. I’m thankful Mac, my father-in-law, calls me his friend. I’m thankful for Mama and that she’s coming to visit this Christmas.

I’m thankful Love-Weasel loves me though I still…still…don’t know why.

I am Thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all.

Happy Thanksgiving from me and Love-Weasel and Tall-Boy and Miss Vickie and Big-D and Bear-Dog and Jack-Jack and Betty-Bob and Pearl.

Peace.         

               

William Carter is a longtime Franklin city employee and published author. He may be contacted at wcarterfranklin@aol.com

 

Posted on: 11/20/2012

 
 

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