Okay, so I’m a week late with my list of things that I’m thankful for.

I’ve been busy.

Sue me.

But honestly, isn’t that happy Thursday in November every year just the beginning of the season when we all begin to focus on the really important things in our lives?

We should remain thankful till at least the week after Christmas.

You know. When we’re all broke. When the gifts have been stowed away to be re-gifted at somebody’s birthday during the coming year. When many of us have gained so much weight from the Holidays that nothing we bought FOR the Holidays fits on January 1. When our credit cards are screaming for mercy at the thought of being dragged through one more UPC scanner.

In other words, be thankful before it‘s too late!

Okay, enough of the cynical palaver. Because the truth is, I’m one of the few men I know of who actually likes the Holiday Season.

So, without further delay, here is my already slightly delayed list.

For me, thankfulness begins with family. Mine is the best, though I’m sure that you think yours is.

Thoughts of my huge extended family start with Mama. The Sunday before Thanksgiving she turned 83. She’ll fuss at me, then forgive me for revealing her age. That same day she sang in the same church choir where she has for over 60 years. I’m thankful that she and Daddy found each other and contributed substantially to the baby boom.

My two brothers have lived around our hometown all of their lives and, between them, know everybody in the county. I, on the other hand, was gone for thirty years. So, when I need folks to hang with or to fill out a party list, I have to borrow friends from them. Both are also long wed and they let me be the fifth wheel when I don’t have plans of my own. Which is most of the time. The bros have my back. I have theirs.

My sister, who had the unenviable task of growing up the only sister to three rowdy boys, is the world’s second best cook, right behind Mama. Sis was around recently and baked several batches of cookies for various Holiday functions but she never yelled at me when she noticed a few, okay, more than a few, missing. I blamed it on the mice but I think she was on to me. I also came home one day and found a load of clothes I’d left in the dryer folded and stacked. Trust me, if you live alone and eat most of your meals out of cans, fresh baked cookies and folded underwear are things to be thankful for. Sis has my back too.

My oldest daughter looks like Barbie, like her mother. She’s my serious-minded child, thoughtful but also playful. And just as butt headed as me. We’ve had the inevitable father/kid clashes as she matured and I didn‘t, but she’s always had me wrapped. Still does. She’s my heart.

My younger daughter currently has pink and white hair and indescribable tattoos that I couldn’t talk her out of. Even with all the added color, she’s gorgeous. My rebel child. She makes me laugh. She gave me my first grandchild so I forgave her for the tattoos. She’s my other heart.

My son has been to war with the Marines twice and has come back both times unhurt. He’ll be out of the Corps in less than a year and has already charted his course for civilian life. Eons ahead of where I was at his age. No man has ever been prouder of his boy. He’s my third heart.

Thrown into that mix are a multi-talented son-in-law who adores my daughter and granddaughter and who will become a millionaire by his own device, and a pretty little daughter-in-law who stood by my son through boot camp and two overseas deployments.

I couldn’t begin to list all of the nieces and nephews, aunts, uncles and cousins who I also thank God for every day.

As I said, it all begins with family. And a church that welcomed me home and put me to work. A soon to be completed new house. A Southern hometown that has embraced me again. A country that I love in spite of a government that I don’t trust. Local football teams that win more than they lose. Friends, old ones, new ones, even borrowed ones. A Lord whose good all the time.

And you.

Every time you tell me that you like how I fill this space, I’m more thankful than I can ever express.

Happy Thanksgiving, a week late, or 51 weeks early.

Don Lively is a retired police officer and freelance writer. He lives in Shell Bluff. Email Don at Livelycolo@aol.com.