Lately I’ve wondered if I should consider making a subtitle for the name of this column. What would it be? Most likely it would be something like, “What I Heard in Church.” Of course, in a week preceding the Thanksgiving holiday, it’s highly likely I’m going to hear stuff from everyone everywhere about being grateful.

Here’s what I picked up from a guy giving a talk on Sunday. He told a little story about someone he knows personally. I don’t know about you, but I usually pay close attention when someone begins relating a personal experience in a church talk.

On the other hand, if the speaker starts reading a lengthy passage from a book (unfortunately, yes —even the Bible), I often suddenly become distracted. I might start counting the number of lightbulbs in the chandeliers in the chapel. Or maybe my mind will go to other important things like: did the dog get fed this morning? — or, did I pay the car insurance bill? — or, what in the world will I use for a topic for the next column?

Years ago, as a kid, one of my favorite distractions in church was to see how long I could hold my breath. There was a big clock with a second hand on the wall in the church which was handy for this activity. I was well on my way to becoming qualified to have a career as a deep depth “pearl diver” somewhere in the islands. I’m lucky I didn’t pass out in church.

If I’m making a focused attempt at paying attention and not letting my mind wander in church, I’ll sometimes try to visualize the words that the speaker is saying as fast as they are said, and insert punctuation (not that I’m particularly good at punctuation). But that can get tiring.

Anyway, the point is, I believe that nothing is more attention getting in a talk, than the telling of a personal story. My mother believed this as well and drilled the concept into me and my siblings as we prepared giving our little, junior Sunday School talks.

And now finally, I’m ready to relate to you what I heard from the guy in church. The person he knows worked at a gas station in St. George some time ago. One day, a car with New York plates pulled in for gas. The driver and service station guy had a conversation. The New Yorker wondered how far it was to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. The answer given was 170 miles.

The traveler wondered what it was like out there at the Grand Canyon. The local guy responded, “I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”

“You mean to tell me that you live this close and you’ve never been to the Grand Canyon?,” the surprised Easterner asked. He couldn’t believe it.

Then he paused and thought, and then said, “I guess I can understand that. I’ve lived in Manhattan for more than 20 years and I’ve never been out to the Statue of Liberty”

The St. George service station friend responded, “Well, I’ve been to the Statue of Liberty.”

I think the moral of the story is obvious. We are sometimes neglectful of the blessings we have right in our own “backyards.” There are places and people who are nearby who are in an underappreciated category.

We need to be reminded that there is “green grass” on our own side of the fence. (Of course, it’s said that the grass is greener where you water it.)

Living in gratitude for our blessings is a great life philosophy — not just a Thanksgiving holiday thing. But we all know that. It’s just hard to do when we aren’t always convinced that life is all that great.

There’s a well known method that may not be the best method, but it works for some of us some of the time. What I’m talking about is looking around and seeing the challenges that others are facing in their lives. So many in the world, near and far, are living without the simple basics of life.

I’m trying to celebrate some of the little things right now — indoor plumbing, heat, food and clothing, no rocket attacks threatening my home, no one deliberately trying to kill me (that I know of). I have a lot to be thankful for.

Let’s have a great Thanksgiving Sanpete. I’ve always considered it a special holiday for us here because of being such a big producer of turkeys.

I’m going to close this piece with a poem that was written by Lorna B. Stewart. I didn’t know her, but I believe she was from Mt. Pleasant. She was the First Place Non-Professional Poetry classification winner in the 1995 edition of Saga of the Sanpitch.

That annual collection of writings was published in Sanpete from 1969 to 1998. If you’re interested in stories involving the history of Sanpete, it’s a great resource. The small book’ish type publication is available on the internet. It was digitized by the University of Utah.

Tom Turkey’s Dilemma

There was a large turkey, a gobbler was he, Who strolled ’round the barnyard as proud as could be, And told everyone in his gobbley way, How he’d like to be free from the barnyard someday.

He said how he’d like to have lived long ago, When his ancestors were all wild turkeys, you know. He never would never have ever been shot, And carried to somebody’s home for the pot.

Now he knows ’bout Thanksgiving and what a big deal, To be the main course at a thanksgiving meal, But he had no patience for that kind of talk, And secretly plans for a very long walk – The day before Thanksgiving Day!

Although I like turkey on Thanksgiving Day, I really can’t blame him for feeling that way, Who wants to be roasted and put on a platter, And placed on a table amidst all the chatter? For when all those eyes turn upon him and stare, He’ll be so embarrassed with nothing to wear! (Poem by Lorna B. Stewart)

— Merrill