I’m not always the sharpest technological pencil in the pack, so it took me a while to catch on to the fact that the ads appearing on my Facebook newsfeed were not just randomly things I liked. Like a long while. Years, in fact.
I just thought of it as one of the little miracles of life that the ads that I saw were often for things I actually sought or had thought of buying.
For Christmas this year, I got some of the most wonderful gifts of all – feedback from readers that they love Navarre Press and appreciate our role in the community.
A few people went out of their way to send us this gift. Others mentioned it when they were making sure their subscriptions didn’t expire.
On Tuesday, the day this column was due, I erased everything I had written and started all over.
My original premise was to write about the homeless, since I always think of them when it’s hot or cold or a time of year when the rest of us are celebrating and they are trudging from campsite to campsite.
When I was a child, there was still such a thing as penny candy. It was taking its dying breaths, but it lived long enough for me to buy some.
People worry about inflation now, and rightfully so, but that transition into nickel candy was a painful economics lesson for a young child. Overnight, it seemed, a penny didn’t buy anything at all.
Anticipation is my drug of choice, and no time of year is more pleasing than the weeks leading up to Christmas.
I’m not much of a shopper anymore, having entered a phase of my life when getting rid of things feels even better than getting new possessions. But at Christmas, it’s still just as sweet.
It’s a privilege this year to write a column that may be read on Thanksgiving Day. For me, columns about being grateful are some of the easiest to write.
I’m very conscious of gratitude in my everyday life, since I have found it can push me above ground on days when I’m tempted to wallow in a hole. No matter how frustrating and painful life can be, it’s also such a gift. I know that sounds cringe-worthy.
As we all continue planning for one of the fattest days of the year, I wanted to share with all of you some of my secrets for a successful holiday.
Growing up in a family where holidays were likely occasions for conflict, I learned some valuable deflecting skills. Now that I have a family of my own, I have perfected some of these techniques, broadening and deepening my coping strategies.
There is a song called “Joy,” performed by pianist George Winston, which I can credit in part with the beginning of my true writing life.
After college, I had originally gotten into social work and, although I was an English major, had not yet discovered the magic of writing. This song, along with a powerful friendship with someone at that time, connected the two.
Whenever I talk to my kids – or anyone else’s kids – about the future, I encourage them to find jobs they enjoy. You can work a job for a paycheck only so long before your soul dies a little.
I know, that sounds dramatic, but it’s true. Or at least it has been for me.
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