I haven’t written in awhile, probably because I have been busier than a one armed brick layer, and that leads to the first thing I am thankful for. I am thankful that, even after all these years of use, misuse and plain old abuse, this rather stumpy body still manages to work in an acceptable fashion.
Oh some days it’s hard to get cranked, the choke seems to stick, there is a whine in the power steering unit and the ball joints pop and groan, but I still manage to get it out on the road and keep up with average traffic.
So I am thankful that the Good Lord has seen fit to give me a body that can stand up to hard travelin’. I believe He knew I would need it.
I am also very thankful for the people God has put into my life. I believe the polite phrase for most of us is colorful. And we are as colorful as a Carney caravan painted by Picasso.
Old drunks, young artist, sweet souls, hard travelers, long riders and several failed experiments in modern chemistry, who have added more love, laughter and wisdom to this old man’s life than ever he deserved. I love you all, even the ones who I have threatened to behead with a dull shovel, and you know I was only a little peeved.
However, I am especially grateful for a handful of you. There are my two daughters, Katherine and Shannon who are full grown people in their own right, and who I can think of and smile. There are my other three who came as a package deal with my Connie. Two of them are grown men and the third is a teenager, and they have brought joy into my life.
Also there is Connie. I ask her often, “Do you know how much I love you?” And she answers with a smile and a shake of her head to say “no.” Then I say, “I don’t either.”
And I don’t. One of the things I learned while being taught to jump off of high places with a rope is that the human mind cannot really comprehend distances straight down more than about 66 feet. When I try to look at my love for Connie, it is just all that I have and I have no idea how much that is.
Maybe I should consider how thankful I am for all the material blessing I have been given. In less than seven years I have gone from a homeless drunk with half a suitcase of worn clothes, a beat up old Bible and a dinged up guitar, to having just a whole buncha neat stuff and critters and all that.
It’s nice and I am grateful for it all; but it’s just things.
Some years ago in Texas an old cowboy was buying his third round for the house. A man at this table cautioned him to slow down, that it was getting expensive.
The old man laughed and said, “Its only money, the horses can’t eat it.” I was there that night, drinking his whiskey and, insult added to injury, I stole his saying.
Those who I love and who love me are what I judge my wealth by and, on that scale, I am very rich.
I hope each of you feels the same and I pray God’s own blessing on you all.