Dear Ann Landaus: When you asked readers to send columns they had saved, I thought about this one that has been tucked away in my Bible. — Bonin San Diego
Dear Bonnie: I liked your se. Here it is:
Everyday Thanksgiving
Even though I clutch my blanket and growl when the alarm rings each morning, thank you, Lord, that I can hear. There are many who are deaf.
Even though I keep my eyes tightly closed against the morning light as long as possible, thank you, Lord, that I can see. There are many who are blind.
Even though I put off the effort of rising, thank you, Lord, that I have the strength to rise. There are many who are bedridden.
Even though our breakfast table never looks like the pictures in magazines, thank you, Lord, for the food we have. There are many who are hungry.
Even though I grumble and bemoan my fate from day to day and wish my circumstances were not so modest, thank you, Lord, for the gift of life.
Dear Friends: What follows was written by Judy Vekasy, director of activities at a nursing home in Savannah, Tenn.
In this season of thanksgiving and just plain giving, I have some suggestions for those who need something to be thankful for. Nursing homes are full of opportunities.
You say you can’t do anything. Can you read? Good. Read to me. My eyes aren’t what they used to be.
Can you write? Good. Write a letter or a card for me. My hands are shaky.
Can you tell me about your job? I was a nurse once myself.
Can you listen? Wonderful. I’m starved for conversation.
Once we were somebodies, just like you. We were farmers and farmers’ wives and teachers, nurses, beauticians, stockbrokers and electricians, bankers and sheriffs, and maybe a few outlaws, too. We’re not all senile — just old. This home, whatever its name, is “home” to us, and you’re an invited guest.
The welcome mat is always out, not just on Thanksgiving. I hope you will read this again every other month of the year. We’ll still be here.
Write to Ann Landers, P.O. Box 11562, Chicago, IL 60611-0562.
