Gratitude: little things mean a lot

By Lethbridge Herald on October 17, 2025.

Al Beeber
Leave It To Beeber

On the Thanksgiving weekend, while attacking the vines, shrubs and roses with a rented hedge trimmer before the onset of wintry weather, I spent time thinking about the meaning of the holiday.

I also tried not to get distracted lest I hit my leg with the trimmer as I did a few years ago, which left a nice scar above the left knee.

And of course, I made sure I kept a careful eye out for deer on the front lawn to prevent Izzy from necessitating another Thanksgiving trip to the emergency department for repairs a year after her leash sawed into the  middle finger of my left hand, requiring a really odd bandage which caught the eye – and not in a good way – of a lot of people, especially as a I drove with my arm raised on the door panel.

We who have our health, a roof over our head and food on the table, have a lot to be thankful for. On the weekend, I learned that the husband of a Vancouver cousin is nearing the end of his life in hospital. Suffering from cancer and having experienced recent cardiac issues, this kind and thoughtful human being – recently so active and energetic – is now, as my cousin put it, on the ledge of life.

Her husband, who I met last summer in person for the first time, is someone who instantly draws people to him. Friendly, outgoing, funny and gentle, he’s a person we are all going to miss, especially his  wife, kids and grandchildren.

All weekend I thought of the pain he and his family are going through right now and it really put life into perspective. We only have one go at this and we have to make the most of it and appreciate what we have.

Back in 1980, just a few months into my newspaper career, I had very little but I had new friends in my life and people who were becoming like family. Today, after all these decades, they truly are family.

But when I was struggling financially in the fall of 1980, even though I know I could have reached out for a bit of help, I didn’t when I was so broke I had to make the choice between putting gasoline in my Chevrolet Caprice or food on my table.

So I lived off a massive tin of spaghetti left with me when a colleague named Terry Shaw departed for a job in his hometown of Sarnia. Once a day for a month, I ate unsalted, unbuttered spaghetti to provide some type of nourishment to help me get through the work day.

It was an awful experience but I was too shy and too proud to ask for help. So I stoically and silently battled through the most physically and mentally challenging 30 days of my career.

But I didn’t quit – this was a test I had to prove to myself I could pass. And when a payday arrived in which I didn’t have to direct what little money was left after rent, student loans and insurance to repairs for the nightmare of a car I’d purchased just before leaving SAIT, I hit the grocery store and filled a cart, finally able to eat again.

It was a relief many people can’t imagine. And I will tell you after all these years, I’ve never forgotten what hunger feels like. You simply can’t if you’ve ever experienced it. And I still thank Mr. Shaw, who I read sadly died of cancer a few years ago, for his simple  yet thoughtful gift. He never could have imagined how much it meant.

So last weekend I felt extremely thankful for the good life I’ve had, the support I’ve had in this life and the friendships made that have  lasted in many cases since I was in elementary school.

And I thought a lot about my cousin and her family, wishing they could have that same kind of blessed Thanksgiving.

Appreciate and value every moment of every day, readers, because none  of us know when the life we love can permanently change.