Happy Thanksgiving by Barbara Quinn

It’s Thanksgiving!

Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce. Sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie. Lots of other ethnic goodies to make the celebration your own.

I am grateful for this all inclusive holiday that everyone in the United States can celebrate. What a great idea to gather together and give thanks. We do have so much to be thankful for.

Sure there are family squabbles, and cooking disasters, and the same old family stories may get boring at times. But what a joy it is to be together, to share our happiness, and our struggles, to let each other know that we do care about one another. We can find ourselves in the act of communing with others. It’s a warm part of being human. Happiness is empty unless it is shared. That may sound like a platitude, but it is true so get out there and share it!

For those who don’t have a place to go on this holiday, or who are strapped for funds, I wish you a better future. Times are difficult for many. I am old enough to know that things do change and we do turn things around. I hope your situation changes soon. Thanks go out to all the workers and volunteers who take the time to provide meals on days like this to those less fortunate. Thanks go out to all who donate to food banks for they are more strapped than ever.

For those who have loved ones away in service who cannot be with them at this holiday, please know that we are grateful for what you and they endure. Our service people have my sincerest thanks and gratitude for being willing to serve our country.

For those who have lost loved ones, please know that in time the pain will soften and will allow you to have joy again. We don’t forget our loved ones. We keep them in our hearts and find a place for the pain. They are still with us at the holidays and still can bring us joy in the good memories we have of the times spent with them.

For those who give their precious time to the Rose & Thorn ezine, and to the ladies of the yog, thank you. It's a privilege to journey with you.

From my house and heart to yours, Happy Thanksgiving!

Nail Art by Barbara Quinn

I discovered a great product that’s a time saver. Nail polish pens. These little pens are amazingly simply and accurate. I’ve never been able to do my own nails well and I don’t want to spend time at the nail parlor. I’m not fond of all the roughing up of the surfaces that they do either. Plus I spend time digging in the dirt for my garden, and cooking and hate gloves. So I usually don’t do anything to my nails. Now, when I want to have them done, it’s goodbye nail parlor, hello nail pens.

So how do they work? You click on the nail pen and a small amount of polish is distributed to a brush in the tip. No more trying to get the right amount onto the brush. No more dipping the brush into the bottle, and knocking it over. I’m a major klutz and am prone to spills like that. Also, usually, no sooner do I put on a second coat than I smudge a nail or two. Then I have to start the process over for those nails.

For $7 or $8 you buy a nail pen and you’re in business. I’ve done my nails twice with one of them. You pop the pen in your bag so if you need a touch up it’s easy to do.

Today I sat outside and had my nails done in about two minutes. I’ve tried two brands: Sally Hansen, and OPI. Both work well. My only complaint is there aren’t many colors to choose from. I bet that’s going to change. Thank you to the person who figured this out.

I heard on the radio that someone’s invented a bra with movable straps, one that really works and is easily converted, so you won’t need an entire bra wardrobe. Sign me up! Gotta love the entrepreneurial spirit!

The Kindness of Strangers by Barbara Quinn

Blanche DuBois of A Streetcar Named Desire is famous for the line, "I've always relied on the kindness of strangers." Unlike Blanche, most of us don’t depend on the kindness of strangers, but when a stranger provides us with an unexpected kindness, what a sweet gift it is. (Full disclosure here: I have to admit I also think of Woody Allen playing Blanche DuBois in the movie Sleeper whenever I hear that "kindness of strangers" line.)

I was running late, again, and the supermarket was incredibly crowded. I only had a few items in my hands. I scanned the lines. Darn. There was no checkout relief in site. Even the self-checkout lines were three deep. I took a deep breath, found a shortish line, and resigned myself to the wait. The woman in front of me caught my eye and I said, “What on earth is going on today? Everyone must have gotten the memo to go to the A&P at the same time.” She smiled and said, “Why don’t you go ahead of me.”

Oh wow. I did not expect that, even though I often let people go ahead of me when they have only a couple of items.

I hesitated and she said, “It’s fine. Really.” I thanked her. And I thanked her again when I’d finished. It was so nice to have someone do me a favor.

Sure there are a lot of sour pusses out there. It’s so much better to remember the encounters with the good-hearted souls like the supermarket lady. That little exchange left me in a good mood for hours. Here’s to those who take the time to do a little kindness.

I'm Thankful by Jenny Gardiner

I loved that Barbara decided to launch this blog with a theme devoted to thankfulness. There is so very much for which to be grateful in life, and sometimes we get so wrapped up in the mundane complaints, we lose sight of the bigger picture.

So for starters, the many things for which I am thankful. My wonderful family. My kids who despite being teens are great fun to spend time with. My many pets, as long as they aren’t barking too much, or snapping my digits off with a powerful beak. My home, which, although it is in permanent need of all sorts of repairs and a good overall scrubbing and organizing, is home. Delightful, cozy, a place I always look forward to returning to (and hoping it’s not gotten too out of control messy while I was gone).

My career. While so far, writing hasn’t proven itself to be particularly remunerative, I hope that in time this will follow. In the meantime, what a treat to be able to write for a living (and how lucky I am that my husband can earn enough to allow me the time to try to actually earn a living as a writer). It sure beats a lot of other low-paying jobs out there. And provides a great outlet for creativity and a chance to work in sweats.

For good friends, who make the fun times even better and who are there to soften the blow during trying times.

For good health, which we always forget to appreciate when we have it, but which I am often acutely aware of being grateful for, having had bouts of medical issues with my family that caused great angst and distress.

For a glorious blue sky and the hint of spring in the air on a January day. For people who are willing to do the really hard jobs in the world, so that we don’t have to. For the ability to have at our fingertips whatever food, whatever drink, and pretty much anything we want. So many people in the world go without as a matter of course. Certainly in our country we are indulged with privilege to a far greater degree.

I’m grateful that cigarettes can’t be smoked in most public buildings. I’m thankful that we no longer live in a city with burdensome traffic that creates added stress in life. I’m grateful that even though my dishes are pretty dirty, piled up as they are on my kitchen counter, well, hey, we have dishes. That’s a good thing! I’m thankful that my city is rich with generous people who contribute not just their money but their time to help others less well-off.

I’m thankful for soldiers who selflessly give of themselves in defense of the rest of us. I’m thankful for the many people who devote their lives to improving the health and welfare of the world.

And even though I get frustrated that I can’t get rid of that extra weight, believe it or not, I’m grateful I’ve been lucky enough to have the opportunity to have gained it, rather than wondering from where my next meal might come.

Life is good. Life isn’t perfect, but then again, it never will be. But life is, to a certain extent, what you make of it and how you look at it. And I try to see it at its best.

Thanks for having me, Barb!


Jenny Gardiner’s work has been found in Ladies Home Journal, the Washington Post and on NPR’s Day to Day. She likes to say she honed her fiction writing skills while working as a publicist for a US Senator. Other jobs have included: an orthodontic assistant (learning quite readily that she was not cut out for a career in polyester), a waitress (probably her highest-paying job), a TV reporter, a pre-obituary writer, and a photographer (claim to fame: being hired to shoot Prince Charles–with a camera, silly!). She lives in Virginia with her husband, three kids, two dogs, one cat and a gregarious parrot. In her free time she studies Italian, dreams of traveling to exotic locales, and feels very guilty for rarely attempting to clean the house. Her novel, Sleeping with Ward Cleaver, was the winner of Dorchester Publishing/RT's American Title III contest.

I'm Free by Barbara Quinn

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them. John F. Kennedy

In Tom Stoppard’s play, Rock and Roll, a character talks about how in his native land he had to apply for permission to move from one part of the country to another. That’s a totally unacceptable idea to residents of the U.S where we have an unfettered right to travel wherever and whenever we wish.

That play made me recall the time my husband lost a textbook and I accompanied him to retrieve it. We arrived at a dark and sprawling old house in the Berkeley hills. The book finder answered the door and invited us in. We said no, but he insisted we enter. Inside, all the curtains were closed, and streams of smiling young people filtered past us into the living room. Though their grins were broad, their eyes were dull, and I felt the urge to scowl and flee. The fellow asked if we would stay for lunch and we declined. Then he told us that we had arrived at a good time. Prior to lunch there was a sing-along. If we joined in, he would return the book right after.

I looked up and saw a portrait of the Rev. Sun Myung Moon on the wall. Ohmigod. We were in a Moonie abode.

We linked arms with the singing, grinning, young people. I pasted a smile on my face, swayed side to side, and belted several choruses of “You are My Sunshine.” Meanwhile I prayed that we would get the book back and leave without being pressured to join the sunny cult. These aren't Jim Jones Kool-Aid afficionados, and this isn't Guyana. At the end of the singing, the group headed to the dining room. We hung back. The book finder again asked us to join him for lunch. When we said no, the young man fetched the book and said we should come back anytime.

I was extremely grateful to see the door open. The sun shone brighter than ever. Oh, sweet air.

I was sensitive to losing my freedom that day, probably because I remembered a wrongful confinement in Mexico by the police. That too turned out fine. Being able to go wherever you want, whenever you want, is a priceless gift that I rarely acknowledge in this land of the free. I am grateful for freedom, and for all who not only protect us, but for those who take part in the political process, because your votes do count toward our future freedom.

Shore Things

January in the northeast may seem like an odd time of year to be writing about the beach, but for me, being near the ocean any time of year is joyful. I’ve always wanted to live near the water and a few years ago, I was fortunate to accomplish that dream. My shore condo is in Bradley Beach, a small town on the Jersey shore where I am situated a block from the water.

My love affair with the ocean began when I was first born. There’s a black and white photo of me as an infant in my mother’s arms. She’s smiling, wearing a black one-piece suit, sitting on the sand holding me. There’s another photo of me in a saggy diaper toddling toward the ocean where my father waits in swim trunks. My parents often told me that they took me to the beach within days of my birth. They headed to the Island from the City, the island being Long Island and the city being the Bronx. We had a small cottage not far from the Great South Bay. My grandparents had a permanent home on a canal that led to the bay and I grew up walking to their house where we held lots of outdoor family gatherings. We fished from the dock, and hauled in crab and eel traps that dangled on ropes from the pilings. We went together on clamming, eeling, and crabbing expeditions. We fished for blowfish, and bluefish, fluke and flounder. Afterward, my large Italian family gathered, cleaned the fish, and shucked clams together. We cooked, talked, yelled, and ate till we were stuffed and the daylight faded away. These days those relatives are gone. I still make a lot of the recipes I learned at their elbows: barbecued stuffed clams, linguini with clam sauce or crab sauce, baked flounder. I’m thankful for more than the recipes they taught me.

Today I walked along the boardwalk, bundled up in my winter coat, bathed in the pure shore light, and I smiled. The waves crashed gently, their ceaseless sound a familiar comfort and a reminder of my family ties for which I am grateful.

Thanks for the Memories by Barbara Quinn

It’s cold outside. The windows are rattling and I’m sitting here nice and warm with my slippers tucked beneath my desk. I’m not much of a fan of the cold, but I do love the crisp, clean smell of a brisk winter day. The bone-chilling air reminds me of winters when I was a kid. Back then, I’d throw my ice skates over my shoulder and hike to a frozen, hidden pond where I would meet up with other kids who loved to skate. My dog accompanied me on these jaunts. Some of us would build a fire for warming our hands and feet in between hitting the ice again and again. Those who stayed late trudged home quickly, because once the sun set the cold became much more intense.

One frosty day, soon after I arrived, my dog ventured to a place where the pond’s ice was too thin. He fell through, yelping and howling. A couple of us struggled to get him out, fearful of falling in ourselves. When we freed him, I tried warming him by the fire. His shivering and shaking, and the white crystals on his fur, told me I had to do something more. He was so cold he couldn’t walk. I was ten years old, and he was thirty pounds. I picked him up and carried him. I thought my arms would break.

The walk home was longer than ever. I finally made it and wrapped him in blankets. Please don’t die, please don’t die, kept running through my head. I wiped the tears from my eyes and patted him dry. I still remember the feeling of relief and gratitude that flooded me when he shook off the blankets, jumped up and licked my face. Wet dog never smelled so good. Frisky is long gone, but he’s very much a part of my memories, memories I am thankful to have. And I’m grateful that at a young age I learned not only to struggle for something I love, but that sometimes things do turn out all right.

A Full Cup by Nannette Croce

When Barbara Quinn first asked me to join in the Year of Gratitude, I panicked. Could I come up with 365 days worth of gratitude? Then I looked around me. Was I kidding? The laptop I’m typing on, the cozy room I’m sitting in, just the “small” things I take for granted that others can’t even dream of would fill several years. So, in starting off the year, I am grateful to Barb for encouraging me to focus on what is good in my life. Often, the less we have the more gratitude we feel. A homeless person is grateful for a warm spot to sleep. My husband and I complain that our new heater drowns out the TV. We forget how lucky we are to have heat––and air conditioning––controlled by a thermostat we don’t even think about. We notice only when it’s gone, and when it comes back, are we grateful? No, we usually complain about the price of repair or how long the power company took to fix the outage. I’m grateful this project will encourage me to appreciate both the big and small things in my life. To not just see the cup as “half full,” but realize that it's overflowing.

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A New Year's Wish - Let's YOG by Barbara Quinn

Here we are at the beginning of a new year, a year Nannette, Kat and I are proclaiming our Year of Gratitude (YOG for short). This is our YOG blog and
we are going to be giving thanks over the next 365 days.

January 1 is a perfect time to express thanks for all that has brought us to this point. I like to think that each day is filled with experiences that add to the building blocks that make up our lives. The end product is a crazy architectural structure, rather experimental in design, but charming in its own way. Sometimes the experiences are not pleasant. However even the unbearable parts are integral to the whole. During my sophomore year in high school I struggled with growing up and with growing blind. When I was fifteen, I began slowly losing my sight. Endless rounds of doctor appointments and medical procedures were wrapped around an active teenage life. It took a year to figure out what was wrong. Luckily for me, the problem was diagnosed and treated. My sinuses (still a bane of my existence) were pressing on a nerve and destroying my sight. I went through some gruesome procedures like having my sinus cavity broken through in the doctor’s office, while I was painfully awake, and having my tear ducts drained via a very long thin wire inserted into the corner of my eye, also while I was awake. I was left with half vision in one eye, and I see different colors with each eye, but the vision I have is my own, and it’s clear and good. I’m grateful for that sight and the way it colors my world. It was not easy to be patient and not easy to think about a future without vision. But I’m grateful for my eyes and for having learned at an early age how to deal with the uncertainty of life.

We hope you join us in this YOG. Happy New Year and Happy YOGging!