Giving Thanks

I still remember a November day in 4th or 5th grade when our teacher, Mrs. Gerry Squires, asked each of us to stand and share at least one thing for which we were thankful.  I felt that was personal information that I didn't need to share.  Or probably I just drew a blank.  Either way, I remained silent.  She thought that was just awful.

So, in order to atone and purge myself of the guilt that has weighed heavily on my heart lo these many decades, herewith for what I'm thankful:

I'm thankful I was born in Ohio and not Michigan.  I know what a buckeye is.  What's a wolverine--a gay wolf?

I'm thankful I'm not related even by rumor to the Kardashians.

I'm thankful I did my thing for God and country in the skies over Southeast Asia and not on the ground in the deserts of the Middle East.  I much prefer mosquitoes over scorpions, though I'm not particularly fond of mosquitoes.

I'm thankful I'm not so vain that I would ever go under a plastic surgeon's knife and risk coming out of the bandages looking like either Bruce Jenner or Kenny Rogers.  Well, maybe I'd go under a knife wielded by Joan Rivers' face-lifter.  She looks damn good for her age; better, I think than before she had her work done.  And I still believe she'd have been a better "Tonight" show host than Jay "Lantern Jaw" Leno.  Nothing is sadder than a clown who isn't funny.

I'm thankful that I never did anything to disgrace myself or the United States Air Force...by getting caught.

I'm thankful I was born in the United States, even though it now seems hell-bent on becoming Greece.

I'm thankful I don't live next door to Honey Boo Boo and her mother.  I'm especially thankful that I have way too much self-respect to ever do what I would have had to do to be Honey Boo Boo's father.

I'm thankful I was born heterosexual.  Sorry, gays, it's just that women are the greatest high on this planet, even above beer and a Packers Super Bowl win.

I'm thankful for Catherine Zeta-Jones, arguably the most beautiful woman in the universe.  I'm really thankful that she's married to a man almost my age.  It gives all of old perverts hope, however forlorn.

I'm thankful for my marriage to the shamrock of the Emerald Isle.  Some folks enjoy the "It's a Small World" ride, nice and smooth, no shocks, no surprises.  I enjoy "Magic Mountain"--lots of ups and downs, but, oh, what a rush!

Actually, that guilt thing I mentioned earlier is a lie.  My mother, who could have given lessons to Jewish and Italian mothers on how to lay guilt, succeeded at laying it on me until I had an epiphany.  Guilt, I finally realized, comes from allowing others to make their problems your problems.  Haven't felt guilty about anything since.

I just wanted an excuse for this blog.  Okay, Gerry?