The trees are mostly barren, the grass is more golden than green. I’m not real crazy about November, especially when I have another birthday to remember.
It’s the fact that I am still alive that amazes me. When this is published, Thanksgiving will be over. I will probably be baking bread which I do almost every Thanksgiving. Some of the kids and grandkids may be here, some will have to work. Some are related to farm work and those days are year around.
All last week big grain trucks were speeding up and down our road. It’s a lot different out on farm land than it is in the city. Often I see young people driving around equipment six times bigger than they are. A few years ago one of the farmers let me ride in the cabin while he was harvesting corn. The cab was a lot different than I expected. Actually I felt like I was in an oversized spaceship with controls I had never seen before. Then a rainstorm came in with thunder and lightening. What a magnificent adventure.
I was reared in the city for the early part of my life but for the past 35 years, I have experienced a very different world. Trains flew by with mountains of coal in them. Now, they are carrying grain, corn, soybeans and a lot more. I have had the rare opportunity of seeing coal for power mills and making steel to the smallest grains which is bread on our tables. I am glad I have lived long enough to experience all this. I feel I have a lot to be grateful for, one being living in a country that has so much of so much.
I don’t understand all these well-fed protesters who are warmed by the electricity that the power plants generate. If they didn’t enjoy all this wealth maybe they would have a reason to protest but enjoying all this wealth I just don’t understand why. Why now, why here?
You won’t find me out there protesting. You are more than likely to find me by my bedside giving thanks.
Harry Croghan is an artist, photographer, writer and teacher. He can be reached at 740-852-4906 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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