I hate lists.
But since it’s what everybody is looking for, and because no one will stop and read anything else in this day and age, here is a list for you of things I am grateful for (in no particular order):
- The freedom to put prepositions anywhere I want to put them in a sentence. Breaking rules is it’s own reward.
- The fact that I am not dead yet. Some people might think so, but, no, I’m still here.
- A reasonably-sized family of both blood and spirit whom I love beyond all measure. Sure, they seldom call, they never write, they ignore me until they want something; nevertheless, I love them anyway. That’s just the way I am; and that’s their problem, not mine.
- The knowledge that, with Amazon.com at arm’s length, I do not have to lose myself and my soul in a shiny glass shopping center tomorrow or any other day before Christmas.
- For history, both my own and the rest of the world’s.
- I am grateful, too, for having lived during the same lifetimes as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers; George Balanchine; Fonteyn and Nureyev; Martha Graham; Birgit Nillson and Joan Sutherland; Tebaldi and Callas (cat fight!); Gielgud and Ralph Richardson and, okay, Olivier, too; the Nicholas Brothers; Picasso, Matisse, Gertrude Stein, and Hemingway and Fitzgerald; and hordes of others you’ve probably never heard of.
- Pain. Yes, pain, because if it doesn’t kill you, it certainly makes a man out of you.
- Laughter. There’s just something about a banana peel.
- Tears, because they flush the toxins out of your soul.
- The sky. Because it’s blue. Grass. Because it’s green and soft to lie on and it smells good when it’s mowed. The sun. Because it’s yellow or red, depending on the time of day.
- The little things. The ones we take for granted most of the time.