It’s hard not to wax rhapsodic at this time of year. Between the leaves changing and falling (my own backyard trees aren’t especially glorious, unfortunately, but the wind carries in brightly colored fallen leaves from elsewhere), the cooler temperatures (for the most part; 80-degree days in November are not what I signed up for) and thoughts of Thanksgiving dressing (my mom’s recipe, more or less, since it’s done by instinct), the season is ripe for rhapsodizing.

While I can’t be with family for Thanksgiving or Christmas for logistical and other reasons this year, I’m still counting my blessings. Sometimes they’re tinged with a little disappointment, but they’re blessings nonetheless.

I have two great jobs: one that allows me to share the thoughts of fellow Arkansans as well as my own on the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette Voices page, and one that provides me with a form of therapy much-needed in such odd times. Though at times the work can be hard, especially emotionally when dear colleagues and house/cat-sitting clients pass from this realm (rest in peace, sweet Nora), it’s rewarding in so many ways. Kind emails from readers and aggressive cuddles from tiny kittens do a lot to warm the heart.

Many of the readers I’ve met through emails, letters and in person, some of them critics, have become dear friends. When they pass on, it often feels like I’ve lost a member of the family. The latest was Howard Hughes, who died Nov. 18, and who, before he moved to central Arkansas, was the employer of a dear family friend from back home (that family friend and his wife, my sixth-grade teacher, have become like another set of parents to me). We bonded over that and many other things despite our political differences. He will be much missed … on these pages, by his family and friends, and by me. I’m thankful for the fact that I got to know him and so many others who’ve come into my life because of my work. (Some of the ones I most cherish have been older Republican men like Howard, and like Karl Kimball, who died in 2020. Both were initially annoyed with my fact-checking, but we came to understand each other through honest discussion, and the quality of their letters improved dramatically because they were willing to listen instead of attack.)

I’m even grateful for the trolls because at least they’re reading, though not necessarily the words I’ve actually written (and then will argue over the meaning of what I wrote, some unaware, for instance, that “independent voter,” “moderate” and “unaffiliated” do not mean the same thing as “nonpartisan,” which I’ve never said I am, though I’ve said I’m all of those other things, as well as sick of parties in general … sigh). While they may chill discussion at times with their constant derision of everyone who doesn’t think as they do (and usually complain of others name-calling them after they’ve called those others every name in the book … a very noncreative book of talking points, but still), posting of off-topic rants (one loves to post “articles” having nothing to do with what they’re commenting on and that come from untrustworthy sources) and overall unpleasant attitude, they make me grateful that I don’t have to engage with them (which I rarely do) and that I don’t know them in real life. They, of course, always say they don’t act like that in real life, but their consistency makes me seriously doubt that.

I lucked out in much of the family I got. Though some of the genetics aren’t ideal (soft teeth from my mom’s side and depression from my dad’s side aren’t fun), there’s also the quick mind (mostly, even after the stroke, though I still search for the right word at times), fierce grasp of facts and trivia, and a wacky/sometimes morbid sense of humor (all that Monty Python, plus lots of “Twilight Zone” and “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” as a child might have had a little to do with that). I was most lucky to have my mom, and my brothers Corey and Mitch, all of whom have passed on, and the support and love they gave me throughout the years. I’ll always miss them, but will cherish their memories forever. Sure, I have a brother I don’t speak to (his treatment of me and of his daughter are to blame for that), and a couple of former sisters-in-law I can’t abide (cheat, steal, lie and otherwise mistreat Mitch and Corey and you’ll not find a fan here) but they’re really an exception. I would fight to the death for most of the people I’m related to by blood and/or love (including family by choice).

At long last I have a house that actually feels like home, even though there’s still not much furniture in it. There’s a lot to be said for feeling safe and secure, and reliable electricity, heating and air conditioning. Yep, there’s a water-pressure issue, but everything else works (just having hot water is a big thing for me, having done without it at home for so long). I’ll eventually get things set up how I want them, with a lot less stress than at the old rickety Crap Shack.

On a broader basis, we should be thankful to live somewhere where our right to express ourselves freely hasn’t yet been taken away, which is why all those (actual, not purported) peaceful protests that have been put on recently are important. They show that there are a great many people out there who, having studied history, see the warning signs of a not-so-free future. They show that passion for the rule of law is still strong among the people, and that so many, regardless of party, are tired of obfuscation and disregard for the rights of citizens and non-citizens alike (yes, non-citizens do have rights, such as due process).

We should also be thankful to live in a time when not everyone has forgotten the lessons of the Golden Rule and do indeed treat people as they themselves wish to be treated. Having faith in your fellow humans goes a long way toward making this a better place in which to live, work and love. Sure, there will always be those who treat those not like them (different races, ethnicities, sexual orientation, gender, etc.) like so much scat on the bottom of their shoes, but there are also those for whom none of that matters. What matters is that we do our best to get along, make compromises where necessary, and work to make a better world for as many as possible.

And one more, especially for those of us not celebrating with human loved ones: At least we don’t have to enforce a “no politics” rule at the dinner table on Thanksgiving. Perhaps a “no cats on the table” or “no begging puppers” rule, but that’s it.

I mean, they can look all they want, but that’s my dressing, and they can’t have any.