Election Day, as I’m sure you’ve heard, is coming up. (Indeed, by the time you read this, it may already have passed.) Responsible citizen that you are, I’m sure it’s been on your mind. It’s been on mine, too, and I’ve probably focused way too much on the obnoxious presidential race than on the state and local candidates and issues that will be making an appearance on my ballot. Trump versus Harris dominates the news cycle, social media, the neighbors’ front yards and Sunday dinner conversation.
The truth is, most voters made their minds up long before Nov. 5 which box they would be marking at the top of the ticket. Yet, for some reason, it’s nigh impossible to avoid talking and hearing about how messed up things are in the world, and how electing the wrong president is akin to rolling out the red carpet for the apocalypse. And maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t expect it to stop once all the votes are in. Whoever gets elected president, half the voting population is going to be somewhere in the range of disappointed and hysterical.
But you know what comes just a couple of weeks after the election? Thanksgiving. And while the holiday does provide yet another forum for the family’s political pundits to wax pessimistic about the state of the republic, in its purest form it is a long weekend of basking in all the goodness in your particular corner of the world. Sure, there’s a lot to complain about: this stupid, never-ending drought; the price of feed, diesel and decent horseflesh; neighbors who don’t close gates; that sore knee that pops like a firecracker every morning when you get out of bed; the hopelessly arrogant, out-of-touch morons in the government. There’s certainly enough woe in the world to fill a barrel or two to overflowing.
However … what about the Grandpa-would-never-believe-this price you just got for your weaned calves? Or that calf you held on to that is bound to win your kid a purple ribbon and a shiny buckle at next year’s county fair? How about the vet who came out at 2 in the morning last spring to save the life (not to mention your $12,000 investment) of a newly purchased and suddenly bloated bull? You’ve got neighbors who would drop everything to pull your pickup out of running board-deep mud or install a water heater in your basement. And, for all their warts, the family sitting around the table with you isn’t a bad bunch, either. Those things are not going anywhere, no matter which sad schmuck is sitting in the White House or in Congress. Shoot, I suppose we even ought to be thankful for the freedom to bellyache to our hearts’ content about all the out-of-touch morons in our government.
To paraphrase the Psalmist, I imagine your cup, much like mine, runneth over with more blessings than you would ever be able to count in a hundred lifetimes. Seems to me, there’s plenty out there – both good and bad – to fill your proverbial cup to overflowing. I know you’ve got to have both flavors to make the world go around, but here’s hoping that, more often than not, you’re able to drink from the cup that runneth over with the good stuff.
