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Main St. by Roger AllenGive thanks

A long time ago the citizens and the immigrants gathered for dinner. They were thankful to have plenty to eat and to be together in peace. And how’s everything now? Not too bad for most of us immigrants and descendents.
We’re recovering from a recession sometimes compared with the Great Depression of the 1930s. Most of us can afford turkey and cranberry sauce. Because of Social Security, old people usually don’t huddle their lives away in poverty. Unemployment benefits help many people get through the unemployment phase of the recession/depression.
We descendents of immigrants are a generous bunch. Singly or within organizations, we sponsor sources for food and clothing for the less fortunate.
We have a lot to be thankful for.

On the other hand…

Business has been doing a lot of out-sourcing to save money. If you’re unemployed because of it, you probably don’t feel especially thankful. However, the idea may have possibilities beyond corporate profits. How much could we save if we out-sourced the Federal Government to China?
I can hear you thinking: maybe we’ve already done it. My suggestion: go eat some more turkey and mashed potatoes.

At the supermarket

A woman shopping for Thanksgiving dinner is pushing her cart behind a grandfather and his badly behaved three-year-old grandson.
It’s obvious to her that he has his hands full, with the child screaming for sweets in the sweets aisle, biscuits in the biscuit aisle, and for fruit, cereal, and pop.
Meanwhile, Granddad is working his way around, saying in a controlled voice, “Easy, William, we won’t be long. Easy, boy.”
Another outburst, and she hears the man calmly say, “It’s okay, William, just a couple more minutes and we’ll be out of here. Hang in there, boy.”
At the checkout, the little terror is throwing items out of the cart, and Granddad, in a controlled voice, says “William, William, relax, buddy, don’t get upset. We’ll be home in five minutes. Stay cool, William.”
Impressed, the woman goes outside where the grandfather is loading his groceries and the boy into the car.
“It’s none of my business, but you were amazing in there,” she says. “I don’t know how you did it. That whole time you kept your composure, and no matter how loud and disruptive he got, you just calmly kept saying things would be okay. William is very lucky to have you as his grandpa.”
“Thanks,” said the grandfather, “but I’m William. The little stinker’s name is Kevin.”

Sorry, Larry

In closing, I want to confess that I’m several years late with the news that Larry LaPrise passed away at age 84. Larry was the author of that great American song, The Hokey Pokey. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in… and then the trouble started.

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