No one pays an old man to think or write

In the middle of the night in Western Kentucky it a Holiday Called Thanksgiving. A day we thank the planet for the abundance of food it offers us. I did not slave in any field today (or this year) for I am too worn out, so I will be thankful that society still cares for me and has not bundled me off to some distant star. I may have bundled my self as I meet with the elderly monthly. That is my class, my age, my ability.
I remember with fondness my grandfather's (Don Pablo) ninetieth birthday that I attended. He climbed the steps up the hill to my aunt Edith's home in Los Angeles, California. There may have been over a 120 steps up to her home on that hill. Some of his sons could not climb those steps. I was just in my 20's at that time and I felt proud of his strength. If only I were as strong as he, I am 69?
I climbed that many steps over 400 times a year for at least 20 years between 1980 to the year 2000 before finally succumbing to worn out ankles and a sore spine.
I have a long way to go to be as tough as that man (Pablo at left in the photo (1936)) but I sure come from some worthy stock and again I am thankful.
Well I am thankful that I am alive and that I eat the food provided by society.

Mom is still capable of labor and I just do my best with a computer, my days of hard labor are over so I asked my being, "What can I do just sitting?"
Sigh
No one pays an old man to think or write but I am sure thankful for that sigh.