It's Thanksgiving Day. I'm thankful. My life has been a series of wonderful gifts. Caring, bright parents. Wonderful wife (how did I do that?) Fantastic children (who grew up and now take care of themselves. Even more fantastic.) I've been able to find work throughout my life. Not always the best pay, not always the best job, but work has been available. What's more, I finally have a job with some security that is a really wonderful job. And I almost make as much as an average fellow. Three-fourths of average I'd say. I could have a terrible, boring job and make more. I could work my first job a lot fewer hours and have a second job too and make pretty good money. But I'm quite content to do it the way I do it.

There have been some pretty wonderful people along the way who have been my friends and helped me get along. I've lost track of some--Bill Hardy, Joe Midgett and Cheryl Berry. I'd like to find them again. I know that they must think of me at times and wonder how I'm doing, wonder if I'm alive. I remember their smiles. You need people in your life who smile when they see you coming down the hall and those people smiled at me. There are other friends that I have not lost track of. I'm thankful for them. I should be closer to those dear people. Some of them have carried me when I was low. There are ministers who had great insights that I'm thankful for. I sat and listened to their sermons and was not bored, but rather, was inspired to think for myself. (Don't get me wrong now, I've known some boring, stupid ministers as well. Let's hope they were doing the best they could and were not negligent doing work for God).

I find that as I have gotten older, I have fewer friends. Of course my work sort of isolates me from other adults. You'd think that teachers would interact a lot, and maybe they do in some departments, but I am pouring my life into students, bright and dull I'm afraid. I work with them from early morning until most of the other staff are gone and there is no time for adult interactions. As for students, after four years, they go away. They keep in touch for almost exactly a year and then they stop "bothering you." It's a natural process, birds leaving the nest and all.

Some of my friends have died. I lost my best friend from high school about a year ago. And mother died about the same time. My uncle and cousin have died in Jacksonville in the past year. This week I've lost another important person. Jerry was fifty-seven. He was a big ole bear of a man. Six foot five and just big. I remember at one of our first meetings I asked him if he could hit a softball pretty far and his answer was "As far as they can be hit." That was about right. Same for a golfball. I remember a round of golf we played together where he shot a 75 and he had 5 birdies. We played best ball tournaments together for years and sometimes we won them. I remember how weird it was to write a 29 on a scorecard as a score for the front nine. Seven under par after nine holes. I somehow drove the green on a par 4 and made a ridiculous putt on the ninth hole. About a 50 footer. I remember competitors seeing us at the turn and saying, "How are ya'll doing?" only to glance at our card in the cart and shout, "Oh man! Their first number is a 2!" We won that day. I still have the trophy. Mostly I remember laughing with Jerry. We played games. Rummy, monopoly, ping pong, softball. I remember throwing the ball across the infield to him at first from shortstop. He was a huge target. He was nearly impossible to beat at anything. And we laughed and laughed while we played. We had our own idioms for talking about games. We made gin rummy into prize fighting and that made it even more funny. We drank gallons of sweet tea. Jerry was a terrific businessman. He advanced rapidly. Customers believed him and he delivered. He eventually started his own business. He wrapped you up with his big handshake when he saw you and made you smile with his big as a bear grin. Meeting Jerry meant that someone would be laughing within 10 seconds. Jerry literally could sell ice cubes to eskimos. He had two beautiful children and two beautiful grandchildren. He loved those kids. I remember him playing with Austin and Carter and throwing them around like sacks of flour into a bunch of cushions accompanied by squeals of laughter. How did our wives put up with the noise?

I had moved away from Jerry and hadn't seen him since his daughter married. I had to give up golf for various reasons and we didn't have that to pull us together anymore. His life had taken some dark turns and I didn't even know it. I wish I had been around to comfort him at least a little bit. He took his own failings so seriously. He was a Christian man. A man with conscience. He was a positive force in the world. I'll continue to think of him often.

It's my birthday. Wouldn't life be grand if I could just stay this age? Young enough to be pretty healthy. Old enough to stay out of trouble. Experienced enough to be considered valuable. Not so experienced that I'm considered a doddering old fool.

I got up early on my birthday. Didn't want to waste any of it.