Thanksgiving was at our house, and once again, there was much to show appreciation for. First was that my daughter, Alexis, was home from New York, where she took up residence in early August – in Queens to be exact. If each New York borough were an independent city, then Queens would be the fourth largest in the U.S., behind L.A., Chicago and Brooklyn. Just so you’ll know.
“If you can make it there…”
Alexis has survived Sandy and an autumn blizzard. She was supposed to have more snow this past week. Maybe those long hot summers we get down here aren’t so bad after all. By the way, hugging a daughter when she arrives is a lot more enjoyable than when she leaves.
Another gratitude last week was for friend Fred being back with us. It was last November that Fred, rather than filling his plate with giblets and pumpkin pie, was receiving last rites in a Fayetteville hospital. Fred is a devout Catholic who still says on a regular basis, “Back when I proudly wore the Purple and Gold.” (You Rockets out there will know of what I speak.) The rites were in case Fred’s bypass surgery (I believe it was four) was not a success. But it was, and Fred and his appetite have returned in full force.
Other reasons for thanks must include the preparer of the feast, which began and ended with my wife, Kathy (with an assist from Honeybaked Ham). She set a bountiful table covered with turkey, dressing, potatoes, casseroles, salads and pies. Oh, yes, there was also a great blueberry cobbler, courtesy of the cooking judge from Argenta.
Another great memory from last week was the text I got from that same cooking judge during a bad point of the Hogs-LSU game. It was a picture of Samuel L. Jackson, in full character as the hit man Jules from “Pulp Fiction.” It was from the “That is one tasty burger” scene when Jules had lost his patience with the foolish thief Brett and, pointing his large pistol at Brett’s “big brain” yelled, “Say ‘WHAT’ one more time!” Our clever judge made a slight alteration and came up with the instant timeless classic – “Say ‘John L. Smith’ one more time!” Priceless.
In regards to last Friday’s final game of the season, borrowing liberally from Harper Lee, just let me say, thus ended our longest journey together.
I’m thankful for Tyler Wilson, and that I won’t have to see him nearly killed every Saturday anymore. He gave as much to the team as any quarterback I can remember, and that’s saying a lot; I wish him success, he deserves it.
I’m also grateful that I have one child who doesn’t live so far away, and that we’re able to see our son, Matt, every so often. He’s 27 now. I remember his birth date, that Valentine’s Day of 1985, like it was last year. Life and its relentless progression seem kind of unreal at times. As Phillip Martin said in his column about being a columnist, last Sunday, “the cycles come fast and furious these days.” Amen to that.
Other appreciations:
That I wasn’t standing in the long line at Kmart on Rodney Parham, or any mart for that matter, late on Thursday evening.
That I only gained 1.2 pounds from the Wednesday before TG to the Monday after.
That my late Cadillac, Black Beauty, made it to Russell Honda in Sherwood before it took its last gasp.
That Honda made the best Accord ever with its 2013 version. Thanks to Bob “Slug” Morris and Matt Fowles.