Is it a boring cliché to talk about gratitude when the Thanksgiving holiday approaches?  Looking back over the past few very hectic months, I find myself brimming with that emotion, despite so many terrible problems—the European debt crisis, the unemployment and economic distress of so many, the persistent progress of hydraulic fracturing, no matter the environmental and health risks.

            Attending my high school reunion six weeks ago, I don’t take my thankfulness for granted.  Seventy plus members of my high school class are no longer alive; others have debilitating health problems.  I know how quickly one’s health can go from good to failing.

            So I sit here grateful, for a new grandchild coming to Pittsburgh for the very first time, for work that is excruciatingly satisfying, though very demanding, for students and mentees who give me meaning and joy, for books, for editors and agents, for writing conferences that inspire and inform.

            And I’m especially thankful for my family, my bright, loving, competent, and funny husband and kids, and for my lovable brother and sister and their offspring, even though their politics are very wrongheaded!

            And for my friends,

            And then there is Flossie, the guide dog nut bag of the world. Oh frabjus day!

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About Sally Hobart Alexander

Blinded at the age of twenty-six, I left California and elementary school teaching for life in Pittsburgh, Pa. There, I met my husband, got a Masters' degree in social work, had two kids, now 35 and 32, and became a writer. Surprisingly, the writing career led me full-circle to teaching, and I teach in Chatham University's M.F.A. program and lead two writing critique groups. Always, since the age of 26, I have traveled, not in the stereotypic darkness attributed to blindness, but a mist. My blog then, "traveling through the mist" will deal with issues in my culturally different life as a blind writer, teacher, speaker, and human being.
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