About 120 years ago I was a poor student living in a mill-town hovel outside of Springfield, working full time, going to school full time, and trudging head down past the U of O Fishbowl daily. There was no point to going in. I had no money to buy coffee or anything else.
One November day we were down to our last box of mac ’n’ cheese – or maybe it was Rice-A-Roni Stroganoff. Either way, it would take milk or margarine to make dinner and we had none. The afternoon was crisp, yellow leaves everywhere, but I walked to our roadside mailbox feeling particularly sorry for myself. I was trying to figure out how to make it to payday.
(Looking back, I hope I knew I was lucky to be in school and have a job – but I don’t remember thinking that, just the overwhelming sense of worry and the struggle to make ends meet.)
Inside the mailbox – like an unexpected gift from a fairy godmother – was a card and a check from my aunt. In that moment I soared. I think that’s why I remember the feel of the air and the color of the leaves. More than my spirits lifted; I flew over the tree tops into the blue. Relief, optimism and the warmth of someone caring flowed through me.
I bought groceries and still had a couple of dollars in my pocket. I could buy coffee or do laundry or … who cares, I had choices! Twenty-five dollars went a long way in those days.
So, here it is November and I remember. The worry, yes. And the joy. Particularly the joy. And my Aunt Pauline.
I know many of us are engaged in the struggle. Money is tight. Fear seeps in under the door and into the cracks in our hearts. But you know, we have choices. A smile, a hug, or a word of encouragement can be a gift from an unexpected source. And for those who can, well, a well-placed $25 goes a long way.
A Thanksgiving wish for us all: remember and be remembered. May your spirits soar.
– Paula Mabry
