15 Stupid Things I’m Thankful For (Stupid 2 of Stupid 5)

Posted: September 3, 2014 in Comedy Journal

1. I’m thankful for my mom, Vada Dangler. She’s pretty great. A weird combination of maternal and pragmatic that’s let to confident if not excitable children. It’s been fun meeting her as a person the last few years. She was always a terrific mother, but I’m just learning to appreciate it her as a terrific human. She retires this year, and no part of me worries about her. She’s a person full of life and full of questions. I don’t think she ever took a lot of time to pursue those questions, she was too busy looking for answers her children needed. She did a good job. The other ones know a bunch. With time to figure out what she wants to know, I’m excited to see what she’ll do.

2. I’m thankful for my dad. He’s a character who has shaped almost every aspect of my person. It’s his birthday today, his 75th Birthday, and I’m excited to see what he does with his next 75. Dad’s a powerhouse, one of the most interesting men I’ve ever met. He’s a pile of stories with one character that doesn’t change, regardless of the role he’s playing. People ask me if I have his sense of humor, and I don’t. I have My sense of humor, that grew around and because of him. I have his smile, I have is awkward grace, and I have a small fraction of his drive. I do have his belief I need to be listened to, and might be the most important person in the room. I have his overwhelming desire to be. I complain a lot about my dad, but the parts of him that are him, are bright and warm and relentless. I’d be better with more of him, I’m thankful for what I have.

3. I’m thankful for lightning bugs. I’ve said this before, Lightning bugs are amazing because, let’s face it, they’re magic. There is NO reason for stupid bugs to light up that way to have sex on the nicest days of the year in miserable parts of the country. It’s silly that the same stuff that is sometimes mosquitoes does the same stuff that is sometimes pornography, and it looks like something as transcendent as fireflies blinking on a hillside field in June. It makes you realize life IS beautiful. It’s a really good trick. 


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