"Thank you for being nice."

I've said it before - I love a good holiday built around a meal.  And let's face it, Thanksgiving exists for selling cans of pumpkin, kicking off the Christmas shopping season, and football (go Niners!).  We are lucky that the true meaning of the holiday is built into its name otherwise we would have forgotten the roots of Thanksgiving long ago.

I try to be thankful every day for what I have because I the last couple of years have shown me that it can be taken away in the blink of an eye.  But at times I also get wrapped up in what I have lost, what I have to live with, and the things I want and do not have.  I'm human after all, and I'm sure that you, my dear readers, have no doubt exhibited those same all too human qualities as well.  My words of wisdom on that is as follows:  STOP IT!!

I was out today, on this day before Thanksgiving, picking up our lovely pre-cooked Thanksgiving dinner for two at Whole Foods.  (No, I am not cooking tomorrow, and no, I am not my mother.)  There was traffic everywhere and drivers were propelling their vehicles at breakneck speeds to get all of their last minute errands done.  I don't think a pound of potatoes and the perfect pecan pie is worth getting into a wreck over, but whatever.  I slowly and safely navigated my way to the store with the sole goal of getting in and out with my dinner in one piece.  The parking lot was a zoo, and inside the store was a madhouse with the vehicle drivers now careening around the store with carts while still talking on their cell phones.  A nice, but slightly haggard, man in the deli told me where the table was to pick up my dinner and off I toddled carefully avoiding the mass of food buying humanity in my way. 

At the time I arrived at the pick-up table it was un-manned.  I kind of wondered if anyone was working the table, but there was a laptop there and it was obvious that someone had been there recently.  So I hunkered down for the long haul.  Several people queued up behind me anxiously looking around and making comments to no one in particular about how they were in a hurry and posing the question "doesn't anyone work here?".  Soon a lovely woman pushing a cart containing several orders pulled up to the table and off loaded, in a most pleasant manner, her wares to several impatient members of the chaos occurring around the table.  When she was done with dispersing her load, she came up to the table, woke up the computer and looked up at me.  Before she had a chance to say anything, I said with a smile "the last name is Davis, the first name is Carol", and I waited for her to work her magic and find my order.  After she typed in my name, she looked up at me and said with a tone of earnestness, "thank you for being nice." 

She got my dinner and sent me on my way but I couldn't get her words out of my head.  Being nice is the least any of us can do to make the world a better place.  It costs no money and takes relatively little skill.  And yet there are instances where niceness is such a rare commodity that one is thanked for exhibiting it?  And why?  In this case because people want their food?  That is ridiculous.

On this, the eve of the Thanksgiving holiday, take a moment to review just how lucky each and every one of you are.  Forget about what you don't have and embrace what you do have.  Be happy with your life and let that happiness spill over and effect others.  Make the world a better place by being better.  And above everything else, be nice.  It matters.

Geritol anyone??

I just had a birthday the other day.  The big 47.  Not that 47 is bigger than any other birthday I suppose, but I subscribe to the theory that every birthday is a big birthday.  And not just because it's better than the alternative of not having a birthday.  But birthdays are a day to celebrate being you.  Being here.  Being whatever it is you want to be.  And wearing a tiara.  Always a tiara...

As I was celebrating all things Carol, I took notice of some things around me that anyone with significantly fewer years on this earth wouldn't appreciate. And it's starting to dawn on me how my parents felt when growing up I said things like "what do you mean phones used to have cranks??".  I would have hit me, but Stella and Bob had much more patience than that...and Scotch Old-Fashions...

I remember in high school and college going up and down the bleachers at basketball games or assemblies and fearing to my very quick stumbling and falling down to the floor most likely arriving in a heap of broken bones and embarrassment.  I watched every step.  Now kids go up and down bleacher steps with earbuds in rocking out to their favorite indy band while texting on their phone AND holding a conversation with the person next to them.  I can't even do that on a flat surface.  Oh, who am I kidding.  I can't do all three of those things at once under any circumstances.

It used to be the only people talking with acronyms and abbreviations in conversation were twins using their weird twin language and run of the mill schizophrenics.  Now if you don't know what ROTFL and LOL are, forget it. 

Taking movies at Christmas these days involves nothing more than pulling your phone out of your jammies and pushing a button.  Embarrassing family videos are as easy as documenting anti-government uprisings.  But back in my day, Christmas morning wasn't Christmas morning without a light bar emitting 2000 degrees of searing bulb induced heat, a wobbly hand held movie camera, lots of squinting and at least one person on the verge of tears because the movies are taking too long and there are presents to open!!  Not that I ever felt that way or anything...

Voicemail wasn't invented.  You got an illegible hand written note or, if you were really into technology, you had a answering machine with two cassette tapes just waiting to get wound around the inner workings of the gizmo.  And speaking of cassette tapes, when was the last time you saw one totally unwound on the side of the road?  Good times...

Printing a document meant you didn't use cursive.

Nothing came in a safety tamper resistant package.  If someone wanted to tamper with your Tylenol or your toothpaste, they did.  If you didn't want your kids to take your medication, you hid it.

I could go on and on.  But instead I think I'll have an old-fashion instead.