Thanksgiving
I will keep this brief. We all have better things to do on this day than stare at a screen.
I just want you to know that I am very grateful for you, Wandering Back-Roads W.Va. subscribers.
When my very good friend Kathy McCarty introduced me to this platform six months ago, I had no idea I would be writing on it within a few weeks and acquire subscribers. The 40 subscribers amount to a very small audience compared to when I wrote for a daily newspaper or Goldenseal magazine, a quarterly publication of the W.Va. Division of Art, Culture & History. The division was disbanded by an act of the legislature earlier this year. The magazine, after 51 years of publication and many accolades, was discontinued as a print publication.
One of the reasons my wife and I moved to W.Va. five years ago was to do more work for Goldenseal. Travel expenses from Ohio usually consumed most of what I earned from those articles. Living here would make the work somewhat more financially rewarding, especially since both of us took early retirements—I because my job was eliminated, Ruth for health reasons.
After I learned of Goldenseal’s demise and the restructuring that makes writing for its digital incarnation a dead end, I started this Substack. If I am going to lose money doing what I enjoy, I might as well do it my way.
I also write for the Tucker County Observer, a two-year-old monthly, nonprofit newspaper. It, like my Substack, is a job that costs money—gasoline, a coffee from Portland Coffee on the way to Tucker County, snacks from a Davis or Parsons store, car repairs, batteries for the recorder, paper for the printer, computer, cameras, lenses. These pursuits also cost time, of which there is a dwindling supply when you reach your 70s. You pick and choose carefully where you invest those increasingly rare hours of health and mental acuity.
I choose Substack, the Observer and the books I write. My wife and I attempt to peddle our Feather Cottage Media books at events and shows around the state, although I we’ve discovered that, by and large, this is not a state of readers.
When people ask what I do, I say I’m a writer, filmmaker and photographer. Then I add, “That’s just a fancy way of saying I am unemployed.”
Creating is its own reward. We are created to create, especially INFJs like myself. For better than 50 years I was in constant anguish over “God’s will for my life,” a phrase that preachers pounded into my head throughout my teenage and young adult years. “You’ll miss God’s best for you if you ignore his calling,” I was warned. I never felt a calling, never saw the heavens open, never heard so much as a whisper. I just plodded along, creating.
In creating, I find a modicum of purpose, but in trying to make a living from creating, I find closed doors, a brass heaven, perhaps a curse. I have learned to be content therewith. Not all questions have an answer on Earth.
I am blessed, nevertheless, and grateful. Thankful a heart attack and cardiogenic shock did not render me unable to walk, drive, talk, think and write. Thankful for the prayers. Thankful for my 93-year-old father and his great health, better than mine. For my son and his wife, and my grandson, doing great in his first year of trade school. Thankful for a loving wife who refuses to give up on me. Thankful for Eidson, our handsome, sweet, smart canine companion. Thankful we have a home. A woodstove. Wood for the stone. Clean, hot water. A vehicle that gets 40 mpg on these mountain roads. Cruelty-free, vegan food on the table. Good books. Self-reliance. Personal growth. A faith based on Spirit rather than doctrine and preaching. Language. Pixels.
I am grateful for this community of readers and writers who, in most cases, rise far above the fake news and petty dribble, the AI and sensationalism, of other social media sites. As consumers of my words, I want you to know I do not resort to using AI, I do the leg work in finding my topics, I actually interview the people and do original photography and video, and I care deeply about my subject matter. I refuse to play along with a culture and political climate built on lies, narcissism and deception. And all the mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Thanks for trusting me. Thanks for taking a few minutes to read my thoughts on what is my favorite holiday. I want God to bless each of you with the desires of your heart and an understanding of his will for your life. And even if these blessings do not come, always be true to yourself and what you create.
Happy Thanksgiving from Bruceton Mills, West Virginia.
Great article. I loved it, Carl.