“What on earth are you watching?” I ask Josh as I crawl onto the bed in our motorhome (in our driveway) and lie down next to Frank*, the office dog (picture below).
*We brought Frank to our house for the weekend so he could run around the yard and sleep in a real bed. Josh stayed out in the motorhome with him cause we don’t know how he is with other dogs, and testing it out with our eight didn’t seem like the best idea.
“A show about the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. It’s actually really interesting.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re watching it for the plot.”
“Actually, the lady in charge just talked to the team about gratitude, and it made me think of the convos you have with your team.”
“You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”
“The bus driver who has been driving the team for 20+ years was in the hospital, and only a few people on the team sent him a card or visited him. The lady in charge was pissed and talked to the team about it, called them out, and told them they lack gratitude and empathy and don’t think beyond themselves.”
“Did they cry?”
“A bunch did.”
“Good.”
8THIRTYFOUR’s theme for the year, which we set at the beginning of the year, is gratitude. I really do think there is an epidemic of selfishness in our country.
My nephew never sent me a thank-you note from his open house, which seems like a pretty small ask when we handed over a wad of cash to celebrate his getting his GED (don’t ask). Someone also mentioned to me that newlyweds no longer send thank-you notes to wedding guests and those who give them wedding gifts. I mean, does it take that long to write a note? Are you afraid your hand will cramp?
This past month, we lost Tony; our 18-year-old hound shepherd mix. I didn’t bother telling many people because I didn’t want to hear the insincere condolences. “Oh, that’s awful, sorry to hear that…” Two minutes go by, “there is this person at my work who is so annoying; let me tell you all about it.”
Cool, that seems right up there with a beloved pet’s death. I don’t care if you don’t understand; just try to think beyond yourself.
I mean if the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, America’s sweethearts, can’t even find it in their hearts to give a f*ck about a dude that carts around their asses around all year long, what hope do we have for the future?
I guess what I’m trying to say, through the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, is send the damn note, whether it’s a thank you, condolences, or just a “hey, how are you doing.”
During one of the toughest years of my life, I’ve tried to remember how much I have to be thankful for. If I can spread just a bit of joy (through amazing cards), then I’m going to do it. The smallest acts, can have the largest impact.
