Drawing #314 during the Vietnam War draft, which kept me from being "obligated" to visit there and from being be deemed fodder for the war machine. My husband was part of the first lottery and came up with #365. Said he was the last one sitting in the dormitory common room, watching coverage to the end and drinking a celebratory (and illegal) beer .
This was the first lottery, too. I had dropped out of college and had passed my physical, waiting for the call-up letter. Then Tricky Dick suspended the draft and put in the lottery. My cousin also drew a high number but ended up voluntarily enlisting in the Marines and opting to be a radio operator. But he suffered a burst appendix before being sent to Nam and instead spent the war on Okinawa, cleaning women's restrooms.
My dad's cousin is on the Wall, KIA in 1968. He was drafted and survived a day over 3 months in Vietnam.
Gratitudinous about The right and the opportunity to sleep late this morning. First snow of the year, because by golly it's supposed to snow here in December. Reliable and affordable electricity.
This morning, let the old Shaker hymn sum it all up: 'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free, 'Tis the gift to come down where I ought to be; And when we find ourselves in the place just right, 'Twill be in the valley of love and delight. When true simplicity is gained, To bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed; to turn, turn, will be my delight. Till by turning, turning we come round right.
Gratudinous for: The local writers café I attend. Various writing communities around the internet, including this one. Helpful strangers.
Medium roast coffee and a maple-pecan scone. My lovebird companion. The unexpected joy of a nicely turned phrase, mine or that of someone else.
My two month old granddaughter is home after five days in the hospital for RSV. That is gratitudinous indeed.
Yesterday set a high temperature record for December in these parts, 65 degrees Fahrenheit. While I have mixed feelings about that (in the context of climate change), the wife and I went for a long walk in the nearby woods. Gentle breeze, pale gray sky, rustling leaves, the smell of damp soil, squirrels bounding about making last-minute additions to their acorn troves, a redtailed hawk circling overhead, even a pair of whitetail deer watching us, barely visible against the brown background. We followed the trail down into a small hollow, the center of which holds a small bench. An old man sat on the bench, bundled up a bit more than seemed necessary considering the temperature, hunter cap, black-rimmed glasses, pale plaid coat. He had a camera and had been shooting pictures of the landscape before him. As we passed, I commented about it being a nice day. "We should appreciate it," he replied, "we won't get many more of these in December." As wife and I walked on, I thought about his comment, how it could be construed as a metaphor for life; here he sat, in the December of his own life, appreciating one of what has to be a dwindling number of beautiful days remaining in his earthbound experience. I thought he just might be an angel, sent to remind me of what matters, that none of us has any guaranteed allotment of days, that we are each at some point in the December of an unspecified metaphysical year. So I am gratitudinous for the opportunity of a wonderous walk on a glorious day. It's not an obligation, but it's probably the wisest course to appreciate what we have when we have it. There might not be many more chances.
Gratitudinous today for: An absorbent towel after a hot shower on a cold December morning. Pockets. Quiet but compelling classical music.
Gratitude for a baby granddaughter who is at this moment on her way home from the hospital instead of undergoing surgery. It was a long night.
Gratitudinisms that popped up during yoga: Recalling years ago when I was a live-in attendant with a pair of quadriplegics, how wonderful it is to be able to feel and wiggle my toes and fingers; How nice it is to be in a class in which everyone is vaccinated and boostered, so that we can remove our masks; How good it feels to rest my tired old bones on two mats instead of one.
Grateful all went well this evening - I wasn't late, I had everything planned, and managed the task the best I could. Grateful I forced myself to get off the train, so I could walk a bit around, do some exercise, see people, etc. Because the human in me needs that that right now. Grateful I still had enough to cover my expenses. Grateful for the trust others have in me. Grateful for Brian Eno. And good memories.
Grateful for a Christmas morning hike. Grateful for the croaking calls of sandhills cranes passing overhead. Grateful for a warming sun under a blue-gray sky, reflecting off jeweled water.
My new, warm, winter coat on a cold and snowy day. Shelves of books to browse at home, and three libraries within easy driving distance. Having apparently made it through another year, essentially unscathed. (Though I fear I might have spoken too soon).
Yeah, I just posted in the not happy thread, but now I want to balance that out. I'm grateful that things are going well enough in my life that a little loneliness is the worst of my problems. I like my job, I'm pleased with my new apartment, and I finally feel like I have a stable foundation on which to build the life that I want. In the past week, I've had deep, meaningful conversations with three awesome friends that I didn't even know six months ago, and this afternoon I spent time writing (virtually) with a few other new friends. Life is good, and getting better. And 2022 is going to be awesome.
I reconnected with my bestfriend who I haven't talked to in over a year. It was a rare surprise that made me more affected than I thought it would. I'm grateful for this friend and our talk together. I can finally say I am a good person. Weird to say, but there was a long period of time where I felt I wasn't. I've finally accepted and felt that I was. So I'm grateful to myself. Every day I hear the birds chirping, disturb the grasshoppers into jumping and watch the kangaroos bouncing as I drive past. It allows me to know that I too am alive. I'm grateful for nature for that.
I'm grateful for The Beach Boys. Grateful that the new Matrix film turned out better than expected. Grateful I've been working and steadily improved. Readers seem to notice, a pleasant surprise. Grateful my back is not killing me like yesterday.
Congratulations! I know the feeling, and it's a wonderful one. Having friends who accept me for who I am now and not who I once was made a big difference. I'm glad you were able to escape the negativity trap.
It was a hard road, not going to lie. The biggest thing was to change my perspective in regards to my childhood and stuff. Yea it sucked and all, but I was stuck thinking or talking about it all the damn time. Even once I got out of the negativity situation, I just carried that crap on my backpack and travelled around with it. It's like having a black moody aura around you. But this is the first time in my life I feel like I have more love and happiness to give to the world than bitterness and anger. I've finally found a way to be and it's been amazing. Most external stuff doesn't cut into me anymore, I'll feel those emotions but I can manage them and repackage them into something positive. It's not always in ways people understand, but I've become very positive.
Gratitudinous about: The privilege of growing old in a relatively seamless manner (yes, I do believe it beats the alternatives); Sound-cancelling earphones; A reliable automobile.
Grateful for my locally-owned coffee shop, which does have internet connections, decent coffee and pastry at affordable prices, and ambience to boot. Speaking of boots, grateful for my muckaround boots, not stylish but warm and safe on a frigid morning. And speaking of frigid, grateful to be looking out over a "typical" early January landscape of snowpiles and a bright blue, cloudless sky. Winter, can't live with it, and can't live without it. Actually, you can live with it, it just has its own agenda.
Grateful for a tall glass of ice-cold water when the furnace has been continuously blasting out dry hot air; Grateful for a furnace that blasts out dry hot air on a sub-zero evening; Grateful for moonlight on crisp frozen snow.
Grateful for: Steel-cut oatmeal fresh from the Insta-Pot; The Insta-Pot; The ability to afford the oatmeal and the Insta-Pot without sacrifice.
