The purpose of this post is at the conclusion. It will need some explaining before you get to it.

i am just over a month away from turning 73. i am trying to dedicate the rest of my life to giving back with things i’ve experienced or discovered in the hope those who might come across my giving back can use it to make their efforts to live well easier.

In case you are not aware of this, i must reveal i am not formally religious. This is primarily because of formal religions’ exclusion factors, recruiting tactics, pomposity, hypocrisy, and continual insistence of trying to prove something they believe, which sounds oxymoronic to me. i consider myself spiritual, believing in a higher power which i, or any human, past, present, and future for that matter, cannot define. i do believe at the core of that higher power is the goodness in side of all of us (and recognize many people never experience their own goodness and grovel in self-protection and no empathy with others).

i must quickly add i respect everyone’s religion as long as it is not fanatic, and even envy some Christian groups, especially Lebanon’s First United Methodist Church in which i was reared and which has given so many people comfort, succor, and a ring of true friends. i sometimes enjoy going to services there as it reconnects me to my past and my parents.

And i should add that the words of Jesus Christ (as recorded by his apostles or others) strike as the closest to what i feel is right except for the exclusionary passages and the ones subjugating women.

The words below were generated by my aging creating a problem i never had growing up, and i really grew up somewhere in the last couple of years. The problem is not being able to go back to sleep. I wake in the middle of the night for many things connected to old. Then i can’t turn off my brain and start thinking of many, many things. i can’t stop thinking about whatever flies into my brain and consequently can’t go back to sleep.

My initial tactic to overcome this problem was to think of something else. Once again, i relied on the recommendations of my “coach,” JB Leftwich. In one of our many conversations in my visits back home, he mentioned he had problems sleeping and began repeating the names of people or things in his head, sort of an intelligent version of counting sheep. JB told me of being able to name all of the presidents and vice-presidents. It turned out he memorized many more lists trying to go sleep, like remembering Tennessee congressmen, etc. The Leftwich offspring can enumerate.

So i learned the presidents in order and can tell you their full names, except i can get the Harrison’s mixed up and i often, for some reason skip Warren G. Harding. I also learned the capitals of all of the states. I was going to learn the counties, and perhaps the county seats in Tennessee, but i gave that up. Too much work.

After i got good at it, repeating the memorizations lost a lot of its efficacy for going to sleep. I then tried counting my breaths, but i would always think of something else in the middle and lose count.

Then one night, i remembered a simple child’s prayer i repeated nightly for a long time in my younger days. Going over the words today, it seems a bit morbid for young boy to repeat every night. But for someone my age, it has a sensible message and resonated with me.

I tried during a couple of sleep interruptions, but it didn’t seem quite enough. After thinking about it too much to allow me to sleep. I came up with the below.

Quite frankly, how well it works is hit and miss, but either way, it makes me feel more comfortable and my mind and my body rests even if sleep doesn’t come.

i wanted to share:

Now i lay me down to sleep,
i pray the lord my soul to keep;
If i should die before i wake,
I pray the lord my soul to take.

…and i pray the lord
help me find
the wisdom,
the courage,
the strength,
the patience
to do
what’s right
for the rest of my life.

The Thanksgiving week was almost perfect.

They never are exactly perfect, you know. There’s always something or someone missing or someplace you would like to also be.

But this one, as i have documented in several places, was damn near perfect.

It is over.

The Christmas season — and i don’t care if the politically correct are offended, this is the Christmas season — is officially on in my Southwest corner.

i’ve hung the sign. One of the photos will likely be with my Democrat column tomorrow, but it won’t be this one:

But tonight, there is a different feeling here. A feeling of peace. Calm. Peace.

Maureen and i spent the day getting organized. We coordinated our calendars to make sure we would not miss any of the events for the next month. We took care of business — Maureen is much more adept at that than i. Maureen prepared dinner from the Thanksgiving dinner. It was perhaps even better than the first time.

When finished, i hand washed the dishes. Our niece, Danielle Guzman, had a post that reminded me of the feeling i have gotten for many years to return to my after meal chore from growing up in a wonderful home.

Then we sat down in our family room. The two indoor cats, as usual, curled up on Maureen’s legs. “Bagger Vance” was on the Golf channel, and we watched, again, because we like the feel-good feeling.

Now Maureen is taking her bath. The rain has passed through and i will play golf tomorrow with Pete Toennies while Maureen will spend time with Nancy.

The night is quiet. The television is off. i sit here thinking about life and how it’s never all good and it’s never all bad and we have the choice to enjoy it or be depressed by it. In today’s world, the latter is easy.

But as i contemplate, i choose enjoyment. The world is full of wonders and to focus on the idiocy of hatred, ignorance, bigotry, drawing lines in the sand, and keeping score for perceived slights is a one-way street to sadness.

So i sit here thinking about all of the wonderful people i have met in almost seventy-three years. i think about all of the things i would like to tell them even though the chance of seeing them again is slight.

There are not many folks who have a wood fire in the fireplace. Mine is ablaze. The picture above the hearth is from the Beara Peninsula, another place where i have found peace.

And in the silence, i have peace.

It was still dark when i got back home.

First light hadn’t even touched the horizon. The waning crescent moon hung over Mexico, its brilliant white points pointing even more toward the dark of heavens.

She would be boarding as i put the car in the garage.

The ride back was lonely.

i already miss her but i am glad she is gone back to getting on with her life.

Our daughter Sarah was here for five very short wonderful days. She will turn twenty-seven on Wednesday. It is easy to remember her birthday, day, month, year. She was born about 9:35 p.m. the day i retired from the Navy.

Sarah’s maturity, wisdom, caring shows through. She is pursuing her passion. She is growing up. She is still my little girl.

My thanksgivings, all of the ones except when i was deployed to some place, have been about family. There were two in recent years when Maureen and i ate out, not alone of course because it was the two of us, but it was still family. All of the others have been with more family.

Even though i treasure those Thanksgivings back in Lebanon, Red Bank, and Rockwood with my parents, sister, brother, aunts, uncles, and cousins, my favorite two remain when daughter Blythe, Jason, and brand new grandson Sam came out west for the big day. And this one was extra special in spite of the absence of one-half of the jim jewell clan because the three of of us shared something more than just a parent-daughter relationship. We spent the entire five days being friends.

Sarah is back in Austin now. The day is cloudy, even cold enough for me to have a fire in the fireplace tonight. Sitting by the fire a Saturday after Thanksgiving seems about right for an old man who misses a lot of folks, especially this special daughter. But i have memories:

A Night (sort of) before T-Day, part one
(With apologies to Clement Park Moore for borrowing from his poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas”)

‘Twas the night before T-Day
but actually T-Day morn
when all through the house
and outside and in the garage and sort of all over the place
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse
cause the neighbor’s cats had either eaten them or scared them away and
our two indoor cats wanted to be fed and given lots of attention;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
but they weren’t stockings and were the wife’s dinner table setting
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there
and a whole bunch of family and friends and i was just kidding about St. Nicholas: i suspect that old fat fart would eat too much;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds
actually the children were out messing around in Vegas and Disneyland;
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
and jackpot winnings and catching the train and heading home;
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
except Maureen would never be seen in a ‘kerchief, a nice hat maybe, and the T-man had on his green hoodie which he hardly ever uses and actually had the hoodie on his head because the T-man was freezing his butt off this early in the morning
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,
except my brain is never settled and i (okay, it’s out of the bag: the T-man is me who is a little grumpy because it was even earlier than when i normally arise)
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
Actually, the clatter was pretty much everywhere as i was getting the turkey in its bucket out of the refrigerator in the garage, starting the fire and getting the smoker ready and soaking the hickory chips and getting the grill and water pan ready and it was dark and the T-man as aforementioned was freezing his buns off and grumpy and we don’t have shutters, never have and T-man’s wife eschews sashes on windows; so it was pretty much a bumbling T-man making all of the clatter and cussing like a sailor (oh yes, he once was a sailor, or at least a Navy officer).
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
except we had one very slight dusting of snow one February a long, long time ago, and the super moon has done supered and it was beyond the horizon this morning because it didn’t want to be freezing its buns off like the T-Man.

So the rest of this tale may be coming here
if the T-Man ain’t too sleepy, doesn’t eat too much turkey
or drink too much beer.
Right now he’s relaxing, hot mug of coffee in hand
knowing bedlam will soon take over the land
when wife arises and starts cooking the good stuff
to go along with the smoked turkey
and she’ll start coming up with all of the things
the T-man besides tending to the turkey needs to do
which means he won’t get a nap before the guests arrive
so he’ll be real grumpy again.