<< Back 12/25/02 Counting on my blessings By Scott McLeod Christmas has passed, and so the absurd accumuluation of abundance is soon to be vanquished to dark corners in children’s closets and under beds. What better time than now, on a cool mountain morning, to finally pull together some year-end thoughts, a holiday letter that didn’t get finished in time to include in this year’s Christmas cards, cards which were never posted anyway, a first for my wife and I. Lori was called out of town on a family emergency, and I just didn’t find time. It’s a ritual we usually embark on together, both of us a little bothered at the size of the task before us but knowing well that there is something reassuring and pleasurable in reaching out to friends and family. Who doesn’t like to get cards and notes from those we don’t get to spend enough time with. I’ll skip the long list of family adventures, accomplishments, endeavors and mishaps that usually get put into those holiday letters, the events that kept our hearts warm or caused them to skip a few beats. Lori or I — or our children, who are turning into right fine chroniclers of family lore themselves, thank you — will fill you in on those the next time we get together. Instead, I’ll just generalize from what we’ve learned this year and keep it simple — count your blessings. It’s a common refrain as we head into a new year, perhaps because no one likes to spend time with those who are always complaining, whining or belly-aching about their problems. Look around and there’s surely something worth being happy — or at least somewhat satisfied — about. I don’t think I’m letting the cat out of the bag by saying that we, as a country and a people, have a lot to be thankful for. A couple of crazed men living half way around the world — first bin Laden, now Hussein — have managed to steer this country on a new course. We’re on the offensive with our military maneuvering and diplomacy, while at the same time becoming a bit defensive about what our uniquely American culture is exporting. We’ve been reminded, painfully, that we can do better, that education, health care, less consumption of everything and a little restraint are perhaps more meaningful uses of our leadership role than the tsunami of Hollywood, consumerism and over-indulgence that is now the American calling card. We all know it’s true, but we just haven’t done enough to show that side of our character to the world. My mother told me last year about a letter she happened upon. She lives in Fayetteville in a neighborhood that borders a portion of the sprawling Ft. Bragg reservation. A military father had been called away not too long after the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks. There was no time for good byes, no time for hugs and kisses. The letter was stuck to the refrigerator door when his wife and children arrived home that day, telling them of his love and of his duty to go away and serve his country. Courage in the face of cowardice is a blessing, and there are thousands overseas who are watching over us now. Agree or disagree with the current war drums, we must never again make the Vietnam-era mistake of refusing to support the men and women who serve. The soldiers have no choices, the politicians do. But enough of national and international conundrums. During this time of year, I’m as prone to sappiness as the next guy who finds himself with a few days off to spend with his wife and kids, time to ponder his situation in life — and access to a fridge full of cold beer. In other words, when I’m counting my blessings I don’t have to look far. A month or so before Christmas my children were pleading for jobs. The shopping list was small — mom, dad and little brother — and they had the grand idea of earning their own money and buying their own gifts. On two counts — their desire to work and their thoughts of using those earnings for others — I was proud of my daughters, ages 7 and 10. I obliged them, was thankful for their health and well being, and as they skipped out of my office could clearly see what a rich man I am. Perhaps there will be rewarding careers for those girls when they enter that phase of their lives. In this past year, hundreds of Western North Carolina factory workers found out what it’s like to be out of work. Manufacturing plants throughout the region continue to close with a kind of numbing regularity. It’s all part of the vacuum created as undeveloped, poor countries attract manufacturers to places where they can pay workers just a few dollars a day. The prosperity that is coming to those countries, the improved education for those people and their families, the modern health care they will be able to afford, is coming at the expense my neighbors. That is the challenge we face, to reconfigure the job base in small, rural communities long dependent on one or two industries. For those without jobs, perhaps the new year will open the door to a new and better life. Those of us with a way to make a living should consider ourselves fortunate. Writers and reporters are often chastised — with good reason — for being pessimistic or confrontational. Many times our stories are built on controversy, disagreement, dishonesty and heartfelt differences of opinion. There is some real truth in that description, though perhaps not as much as some would like to think. Anyway, for these next few days I’m going to, in a kind of metaphorical way, turn the other cheek: look for the good in everything while hanging out with friends and family. I’m shutting down the reporter instincts. Instead, I’ll do good deeds, read lots of stories to my kids, take long walks with my wife, hug the dog, and take part in all manner of simple pleasures. It’s a blessing, by God, and I’m counting on it. (Scott McLeod can be reached at info@smokymountainnews.com)