Thankful for life that keeps on giving
Iam thankful for Harley motorcycles and blue jeans, for country music and cinnamon jellybeans. For mild cigars on an evening breeze. For God’s green Earth and tall shade trees.
I am thankful. For two eyes to see and two ears to hear. For a mind to think and ice-cold beer.
I am thankful to arise each morning, in my dearly departed grandmother’s words, “with a reeeaz-na-ble portion of my health and strength.” Thankful for God’s green Earth and the taste of mint.
I am so very thankful that midterm election campaign commercials have now bit the dust. Thankful for French vanilla ice cream and thick baked sweet potato piecrust.
For a roof over my head. For the ability to keep my family fed. For the activity of my limbs and for clothes on my back. Thankful that the Democrats have taken the House back.
I am thankful to be able to inhale the scent of sweet perfume. To be able to ingest the aroma of turkey and all the trimmings filling every room. Thankful for a few dollars in my pocket. For tall cups of dark roast coffee. For the sensation of cool raindrops falling upon me.
Thankful for icemakers and microwaves. Thankful for other people’s children who are well behaved. I am thankful for hot sauce and collard greens. For Home Run Inn pizza. And for everything the Good Lord has given me.
I am thankful that nothing lasts forever — not pain, not mourning, not strain. Not an Illinois Fighting Illini football game.
Thankful that although I have missed my departed mother every single day over the last four years, time and healing have helped to dry my tears. I am thankful. For golden sunrises above rippling blue waves. For cherished moments of solitude on still quiet days. For country music, jazz and the Mississippi Delta blues. For Spotify and iTunes.
And yet, I am still thankful for my collection of treasured vinyl — my classic LPs and stacks of 45s: my Aretha Franklins, Heatwave, Isley Brothers and my 1977 “Commodores Live.”
I am thankful for the snap, crackle and pop of the turntable’s needle. For timeless unblemished album covers that make me mindful to redeem the time. Thankful for the will to live. And for peace of mind.
Thankful that President Trump eventually has to sleep. For it seems the only way to stop his crazy tweets.
I am thankful for my orthodontists — Doctors Eric and Ashley Barnes — who over the last two years have restored my smile. Thankful that we still have months before we have new taxes to file.
Thankful for winter, spring, summer and fall. Thankful for LeBron James and L.A. Lakers basketball.
Thankful for remote car engine starters on frigid days. For oyster dressing and honey ham glaze. I am thankful.
For one-button phone dialing. For granddaughters who make my heart dance and sing. For Google Maps navigation and all the little things.
I am thankful for rose bushes — red, or yellow and colorful sprays. Thankful for a ticket to Wrigley Field to see the Cubs play (Thank you, Lydia Rypcinski!).
I am thankful for a rare spot of fine bourbon whiskey.
And I am thankful for the treadmill and for the chance to work off all of this Thanksgiving food that I have put into my mouth. Thankful for brothers like Kevin Callahan and Butch Staten. Thankful for life, which grows more and more amazing.
For my wife and kids, I am thankful. For family and friends, thankful. And for finally reaching this column’s end.
I am thankful for not having to try to rhyme again.
A Harley-Davidson motorcycle.