WHEN IT COMES TO NEIGHBORS I HAVE BEEN THE LUCKIEST GUY IN THE WORLD.

          The other day I was listening to someone talking about their terrible neighbors. How they did not get along, and pretty much ignored each other. Some of the stories they told were truly mortifying.

          As I sat there listening, I got to thinking. "When it comes to neighbors, I have been the luckiest guy in the world."

          I started to think of all the neighbors I've had over the years. Most of the memories have faded into the deep recesses of my little pea brain. But I will never forget my favorites.

          During my early years I lived in Pennsylvania. My friend Ricky Swetlitch lived across the street. We had lots of fun playing in the woods and in our little shed in the back yard. For many years, Ricky and I were inseparable. We went everywhere and did everything together.

          But in seventh grade we moved away. Off to the flat lands of Indiana. It was December 6, 1963 two weeks to the day after the Kennedy assassination.

          I don't think we were in our new home more than twenty four hours before we heard a knock on our door. If memory serves me, she had a cake in her hands. Her name was Mildred May and she lived down the street. She told my mother that she was also the local "Welcome Wagon" representative and would return later in that capacity. But on this day, she was just there to welcome her new neighbors. She made the adjustment easier for my mother and they became close friends.

          Mr. May, was known as 'Hoss', and he became Dad's good friend as well.  My brother and I hung out with their kids. Gary, Mary, and Teri. (I always thought it was neat that their names rhymed) Gary was a year older than me, and Mary a couple of years younger. Teri was the baby of the group. (sorry Teri, it is what it is)

          Mr. and Mrs. May were like second parents to me. And if I ever faltered, Mid May was usually supportive and on my side.

          We all grew up together. I hung out at the May house all the time. Gary spent alot of time up the street at our house shooting baskets with me and my brother. I am not saying that we were inseparable. We all had our own close knit group of friends. But we all got along great. I know I had more arguments with my brother than I ever had with Gary.

          My fondest memories growing up was of the many cook outs we had. Dad and 'Hoss' heading out to the country garden they shared, and returning home with their bountiful harvest.

          I remember sitting in the May's TV room watching Muncie Central win its Seventh State Basketball Championship. I can still smell the aromas emanating from their kitchen.

          By this time, High school graduation had come and gone. Then college and marriage.

          In 1976, I ended up in Illinois doing the morning show on WTIM radio. It was there that I bought my first home. All of our neighbors were older than us newlyweds.

          I wish I could remember her name but there was an elderly widow next door to us who became like another grand mother. She always kept her eye on us, just like we were one of her own.   

          Soon it was back to Indiana and WMDH/WCTW radio in New Castle. It was 1979. We bought a couple of acres out in the country and had many neighbors that came and went. I spent most of the eighties there.

          But no one came close to the caliber of Mr. and Mrs. May.

         The years seemed to fly by. I ended up in Florida (that's another long story) In 1990, my wife Penny and I bought an old house in the downtown Ocala Historic District. It took three years (and a broken hip) to restore this beauty to 'move in' condition. All the while our new neighbor Bob watched us in amazement.
   
         But the rest of the story is about the big gray house next door to ours.

         Bob Ackerman was an attorney that worked for one of the local attractions. At the time the house was a duplex and he lived upstairs. Bob was the first democrat I ever argued with about politics. And since Penny worked for a Republican U.S. Congressman, we had lots to argue about. Or was it just spirited discussions? I know I never changed his mind, and he sure as hell didn't change mine. But we had fun. We had a mutual respect for each others position. Yeah, right. It's my best memory of the Bill Clinton years.

         Bob eventually moved to Gainesville but we still see each other occasionally. And we still argue about politics. Bob gave up the legal gig, except for some pro bono work. He now owns a sporting goods store in Gainesville.

          More neighbors moved in. First there was GiGi. Now, she is a story all to herself. But as far as top twenty neighbors of all time, she doesn't make the cut. Maybe I am being unfair. After all, she did supply us with some great stories to tell around the fire pit. And she did turn the house back into a single family home.

          Next came the Bernards. Steve was a local mail carrier and Peggy was a work at home mom to their three kids. We got along  fine but never became best friends. Steve is now retired and occasionally stops by to see us.

          No one came up to the caliber of the 'Mays'.

          All these neighbors got us into the new millennium.

          Then the kids from New Jersey arrived.

          Much younger than Penny and I, we hit it off immediately. We finally had someone next door who could compete with the Mays for 'best neighbor award'.

          Andrea and Kevin Pizzuti have been like one of our own. We had not known them very long when Andrea's mother invited us to New Jersey for her wedding. So the day after Thanksgiving (our anniversary) we flew to Philadelphia. And we had the best time. Except for a crappy rental car, but that's another story. We were treated like one of the family, not someone they had just met and hardly knew.

          We watched as Kevin and Andreas two children came into the world. Jackson and Ava are the sweetest kids you would ever want to know. If I could have had kids like that, maybe I would have had a couple. But I know that mine would have never turned out that good.   

          My fondest memory is when they got an estimate to mount their new big screen. Andrea posted on facebook about how expensive it was. Penny said to her, "Hey, you have a neighbor in the business. Maybe you should talk to him?" So that evening I made a house call. I was happy to help Kevin out and they saved a ton of money.    And I am happy to say that so far, the TV hasn't fallen off the wall.

          I also remember a family heirloom mahogany table with two broken legs. I was able to make duplicate legs and restore the table to it's glory. I worked hard on that project. It needed to be perfect.
        
          The meals and Holidays we've shared with them and their extended family are too numerous to mention. Not to mention this past Easter when we spent a wonderful weekend with them at their place on St. George Island.   

          I hope they stay next to us forever. I love watching Jackson and Ava as they grow into very special young people.

          The 'Mays' are both gone now, and Terri and Mary recently lost their brother. Looking back I wish I had been a better friend and had spent more time with them. I am afraid that many of the great memories have faded. And that is a shame.

          I am happy that I get to hear from Teri once in awhile via facebook. I am glad we re-connected. I miss those days growing up in Indiana.

          As I work on my manuscript for my novel, I think of them often. They were a huge part of my formative years. They were a part of my growing up. Hoss and Mid May were not only family friends, they were wonderful role models.   

          I hope I can be the same kind of role model to the two great kids next door.

          So, your assignment this week is to reach out to your neighbor, past or present. Go meet that neighbor that has lived next door to you forever. Enjoy the time you have together. You don't know how long it will last.

          Whose the 'best neighbor'?
   
          Gee, it's like the 2000 election. It's just too darn close to call. There are too many 'hanging chads'.
   
          After all, this is Florida.

           I would never want to choose a favorite. Both the 'Mays' and the 'Pizzutis' came into my life at different times in different places. I will say that both are in good company.
    
          I am fortunate to have had these wonderful people in my life. My only hope is that you are fortunate enough to have someone like them in your life too.
  
          Have a great week.

If my last name was Smith, she NEVER would have found me

    I am not a huge 'Facebook' user. I even forget why I signed up.

    Over the years I have acquired a number of friends both work and family related. Recently I have been using Facebook to keep up with customers activities and lives. When I talk to them on the phone, it's nice to say "I saw that picture on Facebook."

    To be honest, after a fifty hour week in front of two large computer monitors, I do not spend much time with social media.

    I prefer to spend my weekends with a power tool in my hand, or a beer. But never both at the same time.

    But I am trying to do a little better. And last week it paid off !

     As I looked at the "Friend Request" in my in box that day, I got to thinking.

    'If my last name was Smith, she NEVER would have found me.'   

    All my life people around me have made issue of my last name. 

    I've been called 'Stalewater, Junkwater, Saltwater, Coldwater, Rainwater and the list goes on and on. Some I won't even print here.

    But to my close friends I am just known as "Fresh" and an occasional "Lee J."

    Hearing those mindless jokes about my name never bothered me, as I was proud of my West Virginia heritage.

    I was named after my grandfather Francis Lee (F.L.) Freshwater. Thank God I got the 'Lee' part.  I am proud of my family, so call me whatever you like.

    That friend request reminded me that I am only HALF a Freshwater. There is another whole side to me that I hardly ever think about. And for that, I am ashamed.

    I wondered if it was because as a society, we place the fathers side of the family at the top of the family tree ??? That just isn't fair.

    I got to looking at all my Facebook family members. I never realized what a diverse group we all are and how scattered have become. And it only took two generations.

    I thought about cousins I have not seen in forty years, close family members I only get to see once every few years. I thought about my nephews teenage daughter, whom I have never met. I thought about how much I have missed.

    It actually did bring a tear to my eye.

    Let me explain a bit about the other side of my family. I hope I get it right as the memories have faded over the years.

    My mother was one of several children born into the Fersch family. She was the youngest and her mother passed away shortly after she was born in 1919. Her father was not prepared to raise an infant so she was given up for adoption to a close Fersch family friend. Their name was Jennison. (and that is where my middle name came from)   

    Mother grew up in a loving home and the adoption was never kept a secret. And over the years she was able to stay in limited contact with her sisters and brothers. But to me, Earl  and Clara B.Jennison were always my grandparents.

    I was not informed of the adoption and did not meet my extended family until I was about 11 or 12 years old. At the time we were living in Western Pennsylvania and they came for a visit.

    Most of the family lived in the Milwaukee area, but my mothers sister lived in Indianapolis. After we moved to Indiana we saw a lot of Aunt Marie and Uncle Harold. Occasionally the group from Milwaukee would come visit.

    I spent many a nights before the Indy 500 camped out at their house.

    But soon college, marriage, and career took me away.

    Soon Aunt Marie was gone and we lost my mother in 1983. It was the last time I saw any of my extended family. I remember my cousin Ronnie coming from Indianapolis to see her shortly before she passed away. It was the last time I saw him. But time moved on. We all went our separate ways.

    So when I saw the friend request from Claire Fersch, I did a double take. My heart skipped a beat. The name looked so familiar. It only took about two seconds for me to realize who it was. And when I saw Ron Beck as one of her friends as well as Delores Buchenthal, I knew Claire was my long lost cousin and she had found me.   

    I guess it was easy thanks to my last name. Look up Lee Freshwater on Facebook and keep looking until you find one that came from Indiana. I wonder how many Smith's there are from Indiana.

    Over tha last few years I have thought about and searched for some of these people. But I had little success. The memories were just too faded. But once I saw that friend request, I shot back to 1966 faster than a speeding bullet. It seemed like yesterday.

    Then I again though of how much I had missed and it made me sad.

    So your assignment this week: 'Search out some one.' Perhaps a family member you have not seen for years. Or it could be an old high school friend, former workmate or an old neighbor.

    Thank you Clarie for finding me. It's time to re-connect.

WAS I THE LAST BETAMAX HOLDOUT?

    I have always been a fan of  technology. Except for cell phones, but that's another story.

    In 1977 I was the first on my block to own a video tape recorder. It was something I just had to have. I could record my favorite TV shows and watch them when ever I pleased. What a great concept that was. And it was so revolutionary.

    So I scrimped and saved and worked extra hours so I could lay down the $1700.00 needed for a brand new SONY BETAMAX video machine.
                   
 

       
    I recorded everything. Over the years my video tape collection grew and grew. I loved the beta format because it was the best available.

    But Sony made one major mistake that caused them to loose the video tape war to the inferior VHS format.

    Their first tapes only ran for 90 minutes. The VHS folks had a tape that ran long enough that you could record a movie! Sony eventually came out with longer running cassettes, but the race was over.

    But not in my house. Oh sure, eventually we got a VHS recorder. (It came with my wife) But I stuck hard and true on the Beta format and refused to budge.

    But the old tried and true machine finally failed to function. I was stuck with a ton of tapes and no way to watch them. So I bought another Beta machine.

    Eventually the DVD recorder came about and that was the end of the video tapes in our house. Add a TIVO unit and 200 channels of TV, and we still can't find something to watch.

    But what to do with over 35 years of video tapes? You dub them onto DVD's.

    So, some 2000 DVD recordings later, I have a ton of old TV shows available to watch.   

    But then I bought a 60 inch LED HIGH DEFINITION monitor.

    The quality is amazing and we love watching movies and our favorite shows in High Definition.

    And when it comes to football and basketball, I am in heaven.

    Not to mention ROKU and AMAZON PRIME

    BUT, the old Beta Tapes turned into DVD's look terrible on the big screen, as well as the analog TIVO recordings.

    I guess I will have to start over.

    Maybe a large computer mainframe with huge hard drives?   

    As I placed the final Beta machine in the trash can, I got to thinking.

    "Was I the last Beta Max hold out?"

CAN YOU GO HOME AGAIN ?

    Thomas Wolfe's novel "You Can't Go Home Again" was the story of author George Weber, who penned a story about returning to his home town of Libya Hill.

    That novel was on my mind as I made my way up State Road Three in Central Indiana returning to my home town of Muncie.

    Like Thomas Wolfe, I am also writing a novel about my home town, and was returning to Indiana to continue my research and perhaps gain some much needed motivation.

    As I drove north, I got to thinking, 'Can you go home again?' 'Is it possible?'

    The first thing I noticed was the absence of the six radio towers south of Muncie. They were a fixture in that part of town. So much great rock and roll came from those towers. Now they were gone. The studio building is empty and overgrown. I tuned the car radio to 990 and the only thing I could hear was a low hiss. No music.

     WERK Radio still graces the airwaves, only now on the FM dial. I realized it wasn't the same. Something was missing.

    I drove into the south side of Muncie, and went past Southside High School. But, it wont be a High School much longer. Beginning this fall, it will become a middle school. No longer the 'Rebels', they have voted to change the mascot to a 'Panther'

   As I went through Muncie, memories flooded my mind. Junior High, High School, and College. All of the people I met along the way. Some I have found via face book, others never to be heard from again. I thought of a few who went off to fight a war and never returned. I remembered one whose life was taken from him in a violent manner.

    The roads are in terrible condition. Many buildings are vacant and boarded up. It is not the city I remember.

   As I went past the famed North Walnut Street Field house, I recalled the great High School basketball games I had attended. I thought about the 8 State Championship Trophies won by Muncie Central. More than any other school in the state. And the terrible loss in 1954 that became the basis for the movie "Hoosiers."    

    Soon I was in my old neighborhood. It looks the same, but it isn't. I can't stop to visit. I don't know any of the people here. All the people that lived here in the sixties are gone. The place looks the same, but it isn't.

    I drive over to my old Junior High. No longer a junior high, it is now an Elementary School. It looks the same, but it isn't.

    Downtown is a shell of it's former self. Many of the buildings I remember are gone now. Only a few remain. It looks the same, but it isn't.

     I take a walk through the campus of Ball State. It has grown into a beautiful University. It is the only thing left in my home town. The factories and business that built this city have closed or moved on.

     I spent a few days at the local library reviewing the archives of the Muncie Star and Press. Gathering information for my manuscript. But soon it was time to move on to Charleston WV, the other location I am researching.

    It was a long week, full of great memories. I felt honored that I was able to grow up in such a great place.

    I came to Muncie in December of 1963. As a seventh grader, I felt as if I was starting life all over again. My father was one of many who were transferred to the Westinghouse plant in Muncie from Sharon, Pennsylvania. But I survived.

    I had a great childhood. It was a great place to grow up and get an education.

    But I learned that nothing stays the same.

    It was a long eights days. traveling some 2200 miles through ten states.   

    As I finally pulled into my Florida home, I could hear the water cascading down the waterfall into our backyard Koi pond.

    I heard my dog bark, signaling everyone with-in ear shot that Dad had returned from his long journey.

    It was then that I realized that Thomas Wolfe was some what less than correct. You 'CAN' go home again. I just got here.
                   

IF I HAD KNOWN I WOULD LIVE THIS LONG I WOULD HAVE TAKEN BETTER CARE OF MYSELF.

    As I sit here on this rainy Saturday, I have a huge smile on my face.

    I was licked awake at 5 AM this morning by my beloved P.B.G.V. 'Star'. "Get up Dad," she said in doggie language.

    I sit here in my home office with my morning coffee.

    The sounds of 60's rock and roll emanate from my home recording studio.

    I have been spending a few moments evaluating my life.

    Today is my 63rd birthday. It all went by in a flash. Just like a blink of an eye.

    I got to thinking about the old quote from composer Eubie Blake. "If I had known I would live this long, I would have taken better care of myself."

    Although this quote has also been attributed to Mickey Mantle, George Burns and Mark Twain (among others) I am sticking with the composer and jazz pianist.   

    It seems like yesterday my mother was taking a little five year old boy down to the Bobbys Corners playground to spend a warm summer day.

    Elementary school seems like a moment ago. We sat in Mrs. Young's fourth grade class room watching an early Mercury space flight on a small black and white television that a parent had brought in.

    My parents were told that my speech impediment was so bad, I would never be able to speak correctly. I later became a radio announcer.

    We endured those terrible days in Dallas.

    A major life change came when the family moved from Western Pennsylvania to Muncie, Indiana when I was in the seventh grade. But I survived.

    We were spellbound by four lads from Liverpool that invaded our shores. Music would never be the same again.

    We were shocked when we lost Dr. King, then a second later another Kennedy. We sat in amazement watching a convention fall apart in Chicago, and the national failure called Vietnam.
   
    In a flash, we were walking on the moon.

    I had already graduated from High School.

    College came and went. So did Nixon. A marriage came, then disintegrated.

    I adjusted as I lost the sight in my left eye.

    The Challenger exploded, claiming seven brave souls.

    I watched as my high school won three more basketball State Championships bringing their total to eight.

    Career wise, I think I have done well. Worked at some radio stations, ran a couple. Bought a small interest in one.

    I moved to Florida after my divorce and became a radio engineer taking care of a small group of stations.

    Shortly after moving here, I met wonderful lady and we have spent the last 24 years together. And its been great 99.9 %of the time. I wrote about that last Thanksgiving.

    I easily gave up that terrible smoking habit in 1992. Should have done it years earlier.

    Sickness and death came to both of my parents, and a step mother.

    I changed careers from being on the radio to building and maintaining the stations. Then to just selling the gear that makes them run.
   
    We all watched in horror as three thousand of our citizens lost their lives on September 11. And were saddened when seven brave astronauts lost their lives on February 1, 2003.

    The economy did well. The economy did terribly.

    I marveled as home computers came into being, not to mention that thing they call 'the internet.'

    We went from Beta to VHS, then to DVD's and now Blu Ray. 78's to 33's and 45's. Cassettes to CD's, now MP3's.
   
    TV sets grew from huge black and white consoles to even bigger color sets. Then they got lighter and cheaper. Now I have a 60 inch High Definition LED monitor in my living room. The picture went from a fuzzy and grainy analog signal to a crystal clear High Definition transmission.

    FM radio beat out AM. Now FM is being challenged by XM/Serius, IPODS, and audio streaming. 
   
    Like the economy, life is a series of ups and downs. There is no question that my life had more ups than I probably deserved. So I have no complaints.

    Except maybe when they cancelled "Ever-wood". But that's another story. And the last Florida Gator football season.   
       
    I made many friends along the way. Some are still with me, some have faded away. I had to watch as they buried others.

    As I look back, I have to say that I did the best I could. Never got arrested. Traffic infractions were minor. I never did drugs. Until last year, when I discovered that "special" pound cake.

    My father once told me. "You could have twenty years, or twenty minutes. Don't waste them."

    I don't think I have.    
   
    I wish I could be around for another 63 years. I can't imagine what is on the horizon.

    Have a great week, and remember what Dad said, "You could have twenty years, or twenty minutes. Don't waste them."

ARE YOU SO IMPORTANT YOU HAVE TO DISAGREE WITH EVERYTHING I SAY ??

    When I was a young boy growing up in Western Pennsylvania, my parents had a friend named Mrs. Weeks.

    I do not remember much about her. What she looked like or where she lived.

    What I do remember is the way she disagreed with EVERYTHING you said.
   
    If you said, "The sky is blue today," her response would be "well really is a light blue, more like cyan."

    No matter what you said, she had a better way of saying it. She was right, and you were wrong.

    As I was growing up, every time my mother disagreed with anything my father said, he would simply respond with,  "Yes Mrs. Weeks"

    I was having a conversation with someone today and he had to disagree with one little minor point I had made. Simply to show that they knew more than me.
   
    I wanted to say, "Yes Mrs. Weeks."       

    I got to thinking 'Are you so important you have to differ with everything I say?'

    I thought back over the years and realized that this person has never agreed with anything anyone says. He always has a better point to make. No matter what the conversation is.

    Are people like that insecure? Are they trying to prove how smart they are?

    Or are they descendants of old Mrs. Weeks?   

    I am sure of these people took the time to LISTEN to what they say, they would be appalled by it. Maybe not.

    So, your assignment for the week:  STOP TALKING AND LISTEN !!!

    They fact that someone says "the sky is blue" may not be the most important part of the conversation. Why disagree with it?
   
    All you are proving is that you believe that what you say is more important than anything else.

    It's been over 50 years sine the days of Mrs. Weeks. But she is still with us.   

IS THIS A SIGN THAT WINTER IS OVER ??

     We love living here. No matter how cold it gets in the winter, we know that it is warmer here in Florida than most other places. 
     
     It has been an especially rough winter for all of our northern friends.

     I do some traveling in my work, and for some reason it is always to a colder climate. One November, they sent me to Alaska. But the worst trip was to Nova Scotia in the dead of a rough Canadian winter. I have never been so cold in all my life, but that's another story.   

      I thought about that yesterday afternoon. Penny and I were sitting on our courtyard enjoying our afternoon cocktail hour in the eighty degree clear day.

     We love sitting out on our courtyard watching the birds and lizards. Penny loves her plants and flowers. The entire area is filled with color. We are usually kept company by our two dogs (P.B.G.V.'s- Star and Preacher- but that's another story) 

 
     You can tell which one is the little Princess.

     We listen to tunes on the outdoor speakers, and sometime have a fire in the fire pit.

     Some Sunday afternoons, we watch as John Travolta flies over our home in one of his two jets, coming to or from his home just north of Ocala.

     But on this day we watched as something very special flew over head.
     
     Penny saw and heard them first. A flock of Canadian Geese in a full "V" formation was directly overhead. And they were headed north.

     As high as they were, you could hear their distinctive sounds as they flew along their route.

    As I stood and watched I got to thinking, 'Is this a sign that winter is over??

     We watched in amazement as the geese began to circle overhead. There must have been fifty or sixty of them. They circled for about five minutes then they reformed the 'V' shape and went on about their way.

     So my friends, don't despair. Spring is on the way. I think it has already arrived where I live.

   By the way, shortly after the geese went on their way, I heard another sound.

    As if on cue, a large jet flew overhead, Looks like John is back in the hood.

    Have a great week.

IS IT ALL ABOUT THE MONEY ?

    The internet is full of stories the past week or so, about A&E network suspending a reality show star for something he said in an interview.
   
    First of all, I have never seen 'Duck Dynasty'.  And I have no current plans to watch it.

    Not because of what this dude said, but because I am tired of what I call "Moron TV." In this country he has a right to say anything he wants, even if he only proves that he is a moron. And we have a right not to watch him.

    The TV channels are full of "reality shows." Not my reality, that's for damn sure.
   
    I got to thinking this week, "Is it all about the money?"

    Don't get me wrong. I do watch a few of these shows. I enjoy 'American Restoration,' 'American Pickers,' 'Renovation Reality,' and some of the car shows on 'Velocity'. But are these really true "Reality Shows?"

    These programs have intelligent hosts and you can actually learn something. They show a part of American History.
               
    I doubt that I would learn anything from watching 'Duck Dynasty', AX Men,' 'Swamp Loggers', or 'Survivor'. 

    And if you ever catch me watching 'Dance Moms' please shoot me.

     Don't get me wrong, these shows are extremely successful and pull in a TON of money for the networks, producers and the stars. And they are extremely inexpensive to produce.

    And that is the reason we have seen such an increase in 'Reality TV,' Talent shows, News Programs and the like.

    It can cost upwards of a million dollars to do a one hour drama program. Realty shows cost a tenth of that.

    Next time you see 'Renovation Realities on D.I.Y. look closely. Notice that when they are working at night the picture quality is less than perfect. Usually in black and white. That's because the renovators are given hand cameras to use at night. They are on their own. No camera man, no producer or director. And no 'overtime'. In other words, "keep it cheap."

    So I have concluded that 'Reality TV' is here to stay. Hopefully the more moronic shows won't last too long. 

    Your assignment this week was going to be to watch 'Duck Dynasty', and 'Swamp Loggers.' But I decided I did not want to subject you to it.
   
    So instead, go find a good 'chic' flick. That would be much more satisfying. You cant beat Meg Ryan or Julia Roberts.

    HAPPY NEW YEAR     !!!!

IT WAS JUST 57 LITTLE WORDS

    More than any other day of the year, today is special. Many of us will gather with family and close friends to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday. Many traditions will be followed and new traditions will begin. It is our favorite holiday.
   
    As she does every year, Penny will go overboard with the meal. She has been busy in the kitchen for the past two days. Since we have been dieting since February, we will get our first taste of mashed potatoes and pie in a very long time. My friend and I will relax in front of the big screen and enjoy a bit of football.

    The sounds and aromas coming from our kitchen will be the highlight of the day.

    As our chilly morning begins, I got to thinking. "What am I most thankful for?"

    You can be thankful for good health, employment, and your friends. You can even the thankful for world peace. The usual items that of course I am thankful for. Life is good. 
     But this morning as I poured my first cup of coffee. I noticed a small, yellowing piece of paper affixed to our kitchen freezer.

    Picking it up and gazing at the old and faded piece of paper caused me to smile. That is what I am thankful for. It was just 57 little words.
   
    "Are you tired of the dating game as I am ? Were your holidays lonely too. Seeking sincere, honest girl to share long walks, old movies, dinner and good conversation. If you love to cuddle, this college educated, professional in his late thirties would like to meet you. New to the area. Send letter to BOX xxx Star Banner.

    How I came to write this prose all those years ago, is another long story best saved for another time. Let's just say that come next January it will be 24 years since it appeared in the local paper.

    It was just 57 little words that would change my life forever. 

    I must have put them in the correct order, as we were married the day after Thanksgiving in 1990. It makes it easy to remember, so we celebrate the day after Thanksgiving. Maybe I should send a thank you note to the Ball State School of Journalism.

    Just 57 little words. That's what I am thankful for.
       
    Happy Thanksgiving !!!!!

A GREAT AMERICAN TRAGEDY

    The dictionary describes a 'defining moment' as a noun meaning very crucial, critical, decisive, a point of no return and a turning point.
       
    Every generation has them. For my parents, it was December 7, 1941. It was a day that would live in 'infamy.'
   
    For today's generation it has to be September 11, 2001 when those towel headed bastards killed three thousand of our citizens on our own soil.
But that's another story.
   
    Defining moments are moments that we never forget. We know exactly where we were and what we were doing when that moment occurred.
   
    For my generation that defining moment happened fifty years ago today,. November 22, 1963 when a lone gunman fired shots from the Texas School Book Depository and snuffed the life out of the President of the United States.   

    Sometimes I may forget someone's birthday or an anniversary. Hell, last week I couldn't remember where I put my car keys.

    But I remember that day in November like it was yesterday.           

    I was a twelve year old seventh grader at Hickory Junior High School in Hickory, Pennsylvania. I had gone down to the gymnasium to purchase a book for the weekend.  
       
    I was walking towards the book table when a class mate ran up to me. She said "I just heard that someone shot him."  "Shot who?"  I asked. "The President." was her reply.

    By the time I got back to my home room, word had spread. We didn't have cell phones and internet in the olden days, so word did not spread at the speed of light. In those days it was  more like the speed of sound. Our teachers did everything they could to keep us calm. The Cuban Missile Crises occurred the year before and was still fresh in all of our young minds. We were all certain that the "Ruskies" had something to do with it and the missiles would soon be flying.

    But that was not the case.

    When I got home that afternoon, mother had the TV on. I will never forget those three days. Everyone was glued to the TV watching those black and white images.

    Certain images from that long and dreadful weekend are permanently etched upon my brain.
   
    The plane unloading the casket back in Washington, where  we saw the blood stains on Mrs. Kennedy's dress. I remember being glad that we didn't have a color TV.

    The images of that nut case bar owner stuffing a gun in the gut of the assassin. (Notice I did not use the word "alleged")
   
    The riderless horse and the flag draped casket as it went down Pennsylvania Avenue.

    But the image I remember best, and maybe it's because we see it so often is that of a young boy almost three years old saluting his father.

    Those few moments 50 years ago, changed the course of history. Just like December 7 and September 11.

    I wonder what would have occurred had those shots not been fired on that November day in Dallas.

    JFK would have certainly been re-elected in 1964 and would have paved the way for his brothers election in 1968.

    Just think: No Nixon. No Watergate. What would have happened in Vietnam? Would he have pulled us out? We will never know.

    Our history is dotted with defining moments, some huge like that day in Dallas, some so minor we don't even notice them. Maybe a car accident that claims the life of a young man that would have gone on to discover a cure for cancer. Or a college choice gone wrong that may have led to another great discovery.

    It makes life interesting and unpredictable.

    As I took a few moments this morning to remember, I got to thinking,  "No matter what your politics are, we have to agree that it truly was a "Great American Tragedy"

    Have a nice Thanksgiving