This Thanksgiving, gratefulness comes in bites both big and small
There is a story about a man who is bitten by a dog. He rushes to the doctor, who gives him distressing news. The dog has rabies.
The man pulls out a piece of paper and begins writing down names.
“Oh, you don’t have to make out a will,’’ the doctor tells him. “Rabies is very treatable.’’
“This isn’t a will,’’ the man says. “I’m making a list of everyone I want to bite.’’
This is what we do. We leave teeth marks. We draw blood. Our lists are filled with grudges and dripping with venom.
Thanksgiving is an invitation to — as the bumper sticker suggests — wag more and bark less. It summons us to be kinder and gentler, by opening our “gratitude journals’’ and taking inventory.
I have been sharing my blessings, both big and small bites, on the pages of The Telegraph for 27 years.
It is for these things I am thankful:
That even though every day might not be good, there’s good in every day. … For elevator rides when strangers talk to each other instead of staring at the buttons. … That today I am not a Butterball turkey. …
For the two most adorable grandchildren in the world, and another on the way (who, no doubt, will be adorable, too.) … For folks who don’t use profanity, except when they hit their thumbs with a hammer. … For the hummingbirds who return to our lantana every spring and summer. …
That downtown Macon has a bounce in its step. ... For the dear, sweet lady whose family mentioned me in her Aug. 2 obituary. “She enjoyed working in her flowers, crossword puzzles and especially Ed Grisamore’s articles in the Macon Telegraph and all of his books.’’ … For my comfortable, but unfashionable, Crocs. One of my students told me, “I’ve got holes in my shoes so my swag can breathe.’’ …
That my mother and Georgia head football coach Kirby Smart have something in common: They’re both from Bainbridge. … For “chill” hours that have absolutely nothing to do with the temperature. … For one-stop shopping, doubletalk, triple crowns, FDR’s Four Freedoms, “The 5 a.m. Miracle Podcast,” “Six-Word Memoirs” and John Wooden’s Seven-Point Creed. …
For the Gris family tradition of ringing the Salvation Army bell during the holidays at the Kroger on Forsyth Road. … For mail carriers, Peppa Pig, fidget spinners, punctuality, king-size beds, the smell of dirt, pica poles, Vick’s VapoRub, Swiss Army knives and people who still take notes on napkins. … For discovering “This Is Us,’’ one of the best shows on TV. And for the final season of “The Middle,’’ which has made us laugh and cry for nine years. …
That we survived Hurricane Irma, though just barely, and we’re still picking up the pieces. … For days when I reach the 10,000-step goal on my Fitbit, and not all of it is from pacing the floors. … For chicken wings, local knowledge, true grit and a sweatshirt from Williamsburg that still fits after 17 winters. …
For Walt Disney and his “Dreaming Tree.’’ … That I won’t have to buy the new Taylor Swift album, which hit No. 1 on the charts six minutes after it was released. I can listen to ninth-grade girls singing it outside my door every morning before homeroom. … For when I can remember someone’s name without fumbling. …
That, for the 39th straight year, I resisted the urge to run in the Labor Day Road Race. … For “Big Fish” and “The Butterfly Effect.’’ … That the road still goes on forever. (R.I.P. Gregg Allman). And the game still goes on forever. (R.I.P. Georgia Dome). … For those small-world moments, like when the man I sat next to at a funeral introduced himself and told me my grandmother taught him in the second grade. …
For Blue Horse notebooks, red-letter days, green lights, black olives and silver queen corn. … For back scratches, folks with a moral compass, the “Bubba Chair’’ and summertime trips to Dickey’s for peach ice cream. …
That I know how to change a flat tire, because I’ve changed dozens in my lifetime, although it never is a planned activity. … For St. Simons – aka “Macon by the Sea” – the island of happy memories for 35 years. …
For the wise words of Charlie Brown: “No matter how hard life can get, go to bed grateful for all you have.’’ … That even though I don’t have all the answers, I enjoy the pondering. …
That I come from a long line of love – Delinda, Eddie, Grant, Jake, Summer Sterling, Danielle, Brewer, Sterling Gray, Mama Charlie and Papa Joel. … For absent friends and guardian angels.
For all your blessings, too.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Ed Grisamore teaches journalism and creative writing at Stratford Academy in Macon. His column appears on Sundays in The Telegraph.
This story was originally published November 22, 2017 at 12:25 PM with the headline "This Thanksgiving, gratefulness comes in bites both big and small."