This Thanksgiving, I’m reflecting on the many things I’m grateful for. First and foremost is my loving spouse, Steven. Since we met in 1982, our life together has been both challenging and rewarding. I’m thankful every day for the way we support one another. We are not rich, but we’re in good shape—physically and financially—and that’s a blessing in itself.
I’m grateful for my health. It is better than it has been in years. I am also thankful for the simple comforts of home. We have a roof over our heads. There is food on the table. We also have dependable cars that get us where we need to go. Our little dog Otis keeps us laughing and moving. His energy pushes us to stay active. I fully understand now why people say pets add years to your life.
I’m thankful for my siblings, even though time and distance have changed those relationships. Two brothers are gone. Two were adopted and moved in their own directions. The lessons we learned growing up were shaped by my parents. They have stayed with me and helped me through the hardest parts of life.
I’m grateful for good neighbors who look out for one another. They do so without stepping too close. I am also grateful for friends who can be counted on when it matters. And I’m especially thankful for my readers here on WordPress. Regardless of where you are in the world you are included in this day of gratitude. While it is an American Holiday, I do consider all the people in the world as part of it.
Writing something each day has become a personal goal. As long as I’m able, I’ll continue sharing these pieces of my life.
This Thanksgiving, I’m simply grateful to be alive—and for all the riches that can never be taken away. Happy Thanksgiving!
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Thanksgiving at the Elk City Police Department was a paradox of warmth and chaos. While dispatchers decorated their consoles with paper turkeys and the smell of leftover pie filled the air, the holiday calls kept coming. It was supposed to be a day of gratitude and family, but for the officers on duty, it was one of their busiest days of the year.
Officer Jim Layfette, a ten-year veteran of the force, leaned back in his chair and sipped lukewarm coffee.
“Thanksgiving,”
he muttered to his rookie partner, Dan Thomas.
“The one day everyone thinks they can play Jerry Springer.”
Their first call came just before 2 p.m., a disturbance at a modest home on Fourth Street. Two brothers were at each other’s throats over who was more entitled to the last slice of pumpkin pie. When Layfette and Thomnas arrived, the brothers were outside, yelling loud enough to drown out the TV playing the Cowboys game.
“Seriously?”
Thomas asked as they broke up the fight.
“Welcome to the holiday shift,”
Layfette replied. The brothers were separated and sent home with stern warnings and a firm reminder that family arguments weren’t worth a trip to jail.
“Unit 4, you’ve got a 10-16 on Elm Street. Argument over stuffing. Use caution—reporting party says it’s ‘too moist.'”
As the day wore on, the calls became more bizarre. At a small rental house on the edge of town, a woman had locked her husband out because he had insulted her mother’s green bean casserole. He stood in the front yard, arms crossed and shivering in a light jacket, refusing to apologize. Thomas handed him a blanket from the patrol car while Layfette gave him a brief lecture on tact.
“Is it that bad?”
The husband asked.
Layfette smirked.
“I’ve had worse. Just say sorry and move on.”
By evening, the call volume skyrocketed. In one house, a drunken uncle had tried to carve the turkey with a chainsaw. In another, two cousins had turned a friendly card game into a shouting match that ended with one flipping the table. When Layfette thought the shift couldn’t get weirder, the radio crackled with another call.
The dispatcher, Chris, kept things lively with dry humor.
“Unit 4, you’ve got a 10-16 on Elm Street. Argument over stuffing. Use caution—reporting party says it’s ‘too moist.'”
Layfette couldn’t suppress a laugh at the Elm Street house when the elderly matriarch opened the door.
“I didn’t call you,”
she said with a sigh.
“It was my daughter. She’s too sensitive. But if you could take the turkey with you.”
“No, ma’am, thanks for the offer,”
Layfette replied.
Officers gathered at the station to share a potluck meal and stories of their day. Amidst the oddball arguments and creative resolutions, a sense of camaraderie and shared experience began to emerge. Thomas, who had started the shift apprehensive about the chaos, was beginning to see the humor in it all, feeling a part of the team.
“It’s like therapy,”
Layfette told him as they sat in the patrol car during a lull.
“Families blow off steam, and we get to play referee. It beats the usual stuff.”
By the end of their shift, Layfette and Thomas had responded to a dozen calls. No one had been seriously hurt, and most of the disputes ended with hugs and laughter. This sense of accomplishment and the fact that they had kept the peace on a chaotic day filled them with a deep sense of fulfillment and pride.
As they handed off their patrol car to the next shift, Layfette gave Thomas a pat on the shoulder.
“Congratulations, rookie. You survived your first Thanksgiving shift.”
He grinned.
“And I thought holidays were supposed to be relaxing.”
“Not here,”
Layfette said with a chuckle.
“Welcome to the Elk City PD.”
They left the station to find the night unusually quiet, as though the town had finally run out of steam. It was a well-spent Thanksgiving for the officers—keeping the peace one turkey-fueled feud at a time.
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