We all know we should exude it.

We’ve all heard it about a gazillion times.

We understand that it is, without exception, the right thing to have.

An attitude of gratitude.

Hmm.

This zippy little year called 2020 certainly has put the concept to the test, to be sure.

For so many struggling with well, the very essence of being; it’s one tall order.

And yet, in everything, there is at least some small shred of appreciation to cling. Now more than ever, that slippery little sliver can be difficult to identify.

But it’s there.

Yes, there is suffering in abundance. There is sadness. There is loss.

But I’m here to tell you that, even in what seems like the darkest era in about a slew of ‘em; there is always something for which to be grateful. Honest.

I’m not going to pretend that this has been the best year ever. Or the second best. Or the 947th. Personally, I’ve found it to be just about the cruddiest poo-fest of a miserable excuse for a year in the 52 I’ve been blessed to have.

Then again, I’ve been blessed.

More than I should be. Certainly more than a whiny, snively schmuck like me deserves, hands down.

I lost my Pop this year. Some days, I still can’t wrap my head around that fact. The man was larger than life; a force if ever there was one. 

I miss him every single day.

And yet, I was lucky enough to have more than a half-century with him. That’s a heckuva lot more than many folks get with their Dads. And I am grateful to have had it.

I have a son who is clearly the greatest gift of my life. The man he is, the integrity, honesty, decency, and character with which he chooses to conduct himself…well, it is my crowning achievement. He’s wicked funny and crazy smart, too. Just sayin’.

Yep, my “thank my lucky stars list” is a long one, Peeps: my hubby, my family, my friends, my job, and that all-important thing which sustains me through the happy, the sad, and the plain old flipping frustrating: my faith. 

Shoot, how’s a human supposed to complain in the face of all that good stuff, Capisce?

But don’t just take my word for it, y’all. Here’s what some really big brains have had to say about being grateful:

“Gratitude to God is to accept everything, even my problems, with joy.”  -St. Mother Theresa of Calcutta

“Gratitude is the fairest blossom which springs from the soul.” –Henry Ward Beecher

“Gratitude is a powerful catalyst for happiness,” –Amy Collette

“Appreciation is a wonderful thing. It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.” -Voltaire

“Life’s most persistent and urgent question is: ‘What are you doing for others?’ ”  -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 

“If you concentrate on finding whatever is good in every situation… your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.”  —Rabbi Harold Kushner

“As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.”  –John F. Kennedy

“Gratitude for the present moment and the fullness of life now is the true prosperity.”  –Eckhart Tolle

“Gratitude is the sign of noble souls.”  –Aesop

“Nothing is more honorable than a grateful heart.” –Lucius Seneca

Saved the best for last: “…For it is in giving that we receive,” -St. Francis of Assisi 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Kimerer is a columnist grateful for anyone reading this. Contact her at www.patriciakimerer.com

​November is pretty impressive for a month that comes in second to dead last, am I right?
 
Lots of people like the 11th month best. Well, many people; okay, like four.
 
This is probably because there are some undeniable detractors for the poor, put-upon month.
 
For instance, this year it brought the most redonkulous primary Election Day since Dewey defeating Truman, yo.
 
But other brutal characteristics are November’s earmark, as well.
 
For instance, at least in this neck of the woods, it’s usually cold. And dark. Really dark.
 
And it’s usually fairly dank most of the time, too. The kind of wet, humid, cold that seeps deep into your bones and stays there…’til next May.
 
Shudder.
 
Sure, it’s past peak foliage season. Yep, it’s too late for that.
 
The only hanging-on-to-the-tree-like-grim-death leaves left on most trees are…well, brown. The yucky shade at that.
 
Let’s face it, those suckers are pretty dried up and crumpled, too. Except for the ones that are all moth-eaten and Swiss cheese hole-y.
 
Blech.
 
It’s also typically pre snow-globe beautiful, on the whole, Yep, it’s too early for that.
 
November’s usually not chock-full of those picturesque bright-sun yet snow-blanketed trees glistening in flocked awesomeness landscapes days. You know, the sort of stuff that inspired Currier, Ives, and what not.
 
Rather, it served as the impetus behind the Guns n Roses rock anthem “November Rain.” Surely you recall the uplifting 1991 video?
 
Lead singer Axl Rose marries gorge super model Stephanie Seymour…who promptly expires.
 
He spends the rest of his days standing in the cold November rain, ostensibly trying to join his beloved by catching pneumonia?
 
Ah yes. It’s a cheerful little commentary on November.
 
Sigh.
 
Certainly it’s no friend to turkeys. #Thanksgiving
 
Except for that one lucky Tom who gets a Presidential pardon every year, the wobbling gobblers are basically the walking dead.
 
Frankly, with the current state of things in old DC, even that one White House waddler might not necessarily be shoe-in for making it to Christmas vertically this year, capisce?
 
Yikes.
 
Either way…November DOES have some highlights. Naturally there’s Veteran’s Day on the 11th.
 
And if I’ve said this once, I’ve said it 45 bazillion times; we should be grateful to U.S. veterans every second of every minute of every day that we are alive, well, and safe in these United States. Yes, united. In a thread in some spots, but still.
 
According to “National Day Calendar”, here are more reasons for November love:
 
November 4: Candy Day, Healthy Eating Day, Military Families Recognition Day. Wait, since when is candy a health food? Eh, let’s go with it.
 
November 5: Doughnut Day. ‘Nuff said.
 
November 10: U.S. Marine Corps Birthday, Sesame Street Day, Young Readers Day, Forget-Me-Not Day, Vanilla Cupcake Day. Whew!
November 14: Spicy Guacamole Day, Pickle Day. Um, I suppose if you’re expecting, this might be a super awesome combo day?
 
November 15: I Love to Write Day, National Philanthropy Day, America Recycles Day, National Clean Out Your Fridge Day. Had to include this because of the first one. Hey, that last one should clearly come AFTER Thanksgiving, no?
 
November 21: National Adoption Day, World Hello Day, Family Volunteer Day, International Games Day.  Love, love lovin’ these!
 
November 25: National Parfait Day, What Do You Love About America Day. Man is 2020 begging for us to celebrate both of this, you dig?
 
Overall, November’s pretty popular for coming in next-to-last, dontcha think?
 
Kimerer is columnist wishing y’all Happy November! Contact her at www.patriciakimerer.com

I know you've got your mask on most of the time.  And if you don't for the love of all that is holy put your flipping mask on in any public space already!

I hate the mask as much as the next earthling but I absolutely do and will wear for as long as it takes. Suck it up and keep it covered, y'all. #InItTogether

-- Ahem, as I was saying-- Life's pretty weird these days.

So, I know that we can't see each other's faces in total anymore. But that shouldn't stop you from smiling, yo.

Because it's obvious, even in your eyes, when you smile. Frankly, I think the glean in your peepers is as much part of the smiling process as your toothy grin.

And smiling is just a little nicety we can all afford to give any time, all the time. SO -- hidden, out for all the world to see, only partially visible; doesn't really matter. Just smile at the other humans, a'ight?

Why? Because it is KIND. And right now, the homo sapiens need as much KIND as we can get.

Do little nice stuff like smiling.

Do big nice stuff like volunteering at a homeless shelter every week.

Do even bigger nice stuff like helping to build a Habitat for Humanity home or spending the day making 500 pizzas to donate to a food pantry.

Just do what you can, when you can, as long as you can, as often as you can to show the kind to your fellow person.

'Cause KIND? Pretty dang cool, Capisce? #WorldKindnessDay #BeNice #Pray #Peace

I say this every year.

#VeteransDay is wonderful. It's much-deserved. It's proper. It's only right.

But it shouldn't just be acknowledged on November 11th, Capisce? 

For the men and women who have or are now putting their lives on the line for EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US?

One measly day? Naw. They deserve more.

SO MUCH MORE.

I saw this gentleman in the parking lot of a doctor's office yesterday. He had a black ball cap on designating his branch and unit of service in gold embroidery.

I called out to him from my car window as I waited my turn in line. "Sir?"

"Yes?" he answered. 

"Thank you," I said, as I make a point to do for every U.S. veteran to cross my path. Any day. Every day. Ever.

"For what?" he inquired.

"For your service. For your honor. For everything you've done for me. Thank you," I smiled.

He nodded and told me he was excited to fly his flag today.

Fly your flag EVERY DAY, people. High and proud.

And THANK A VETERAN. Today, tomorrow, always.

I want to give a special shout out to our friend Brad Smith. Army veteran, patriot, amazing husband, Dad, friend, and American. Thank you for your service, Bad Brad.

And to my favorite Naval Academy Midshipman, Callen Aulizia...I love and miss and pray for you. Every. Single. Day.

Without the grace and blessings of God, the true treasure of family, and the tremendous sacrifice of the U.S. military, I shudder to think where we'd be in these (hopefully still) United States.

Me and my house? We grateful, yo.

God bless all Veterans (past, present, future) -- today and always.

#ThankAVet #GodBlessVeterans #GodBlessAmerica #Pray #Peace

I’m not going to lie. I feel more beat up than a Philadelphia-based poll worker counting votes last Thursday afternoon, you dig?
 
Oops, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to slip in that “you dig.”
 
In fact, the only thing I’m considering digging these days is a hole. A really big one. So I can jump down into it.
 
For days. Maybe weeks.
 
Mostly to hide from my mailman. He played a mean trick on me.
 
You see, he brought me a bogus letter the other day. I like to refer to it as a sort of, Trojan Horse epistle, if you will.
 
I mean, from the outside, it looked like a lovely hand-written letter from someone I assumed was a regular column-reader.
 
I based this supposition on the fact that the sweet little cream-colored envelope marked “Personal” had been sent to my attention via the newspaper’s headquarters and contained the name and return home address of the sender in the upper left-hand corner.
 
“Oh my gosh! Someone’s reaching out about ‘My Sentiments Exactly’,” I thought excitedly, hoping for a positively glowing review of my clever quips and keen turns-of-phase.
 
And by the end of it, I was, indeed, glowing. You know, from that certain hue of light yellowish green you turn right before you upchuck all over your loafers, yo.
 
Aw crikey. There I go again -- yo-yo-ing all over myself. Ding dang it. That’s what got me in such sea-sick shape in the first place, a’ight?
 
Hmm.
 
She didn’t precisely call out “a’ight”, but I did get her message loud and clear: my cutesy, comical commentary is not copasetic.
 
I digress. I think I’m still allowed to do that? Oh, shoot, I’m digressin’, anyway.
 
Bottom line: that allegedly sweet letter ripped me to shreds.
 
The opening seemed all love letter –but turned straight Shakespearean tragedy in exactly eight words.
 
“Dear, Patty, We enjoy your columns – except when…”
 
Thud.
 
I soon learned this was actually a scarlet letter – as in, the author stopped just short of suggesting I toss one around my neck in contrition and shame.
 
My “Friendly Complainer” (as she signed beneath her “Sincerely” closing) went on to chastise me for using phrases such as “anywho” and various other “teenybopper” idioms littering my otherwise fairly readable offerings.
 
“We hate these high school or ‘60s slang expressions…” she wrote, adding “How much cleaner and better your articles would be without them.”
 
Wow. Hate. It started to sink in. Someone out there hates me --or my phraseology, anywho-- enough to put it in writing and mail it to my person.
 
Gulp.
 
Madone! Who knew I was such a polarizing figure?
 
Oh yes, Madone! That’s a Pattyism I toss out when looking for a little divine intervention understanding something, you feel me?

Unsurprisingly, it is of Italian derivation. Speaking of my paternal heritage, my un-fan told me that even her Italian friends are tired of my use of a certain word in my column.
 
Sigh.
 
I am truly, deeply sorry if my puns offend anyone, anywhere, any time.
 
Shoot. Here I was thinking I was offering a little light-heartedness in a world of, how shall I say, crud-filled crappola?
 
In any event, I’ll try to do better heretofore. I’ll even apprehend my “Ahems”… at least for this week, Capisce?
 
Kimerer is a columnist who wonders if people really think she was a high-schooler in the ’60s? #OldButNotThatOld Contact her via www.patriciakimerer.com

Maybe you haven't heard...but it's #ElectionDay in America.

It's a pretty well-kept secret, natch. 

"Gosh, I didn't even realize that 2020 was a primary election cycle."

SAID.NO.HUMAN.WITH.A.PULSE

Listen, I'm not here to judge. That'd be my hate-mailer's job, apparently. Oh, look for more to come in this week's column, a'ight?

But back to TODAY'S hot mess, er, I mean, topic.

I get it. You have it, I have it, we all have it: Campaign 2020 Fatigue. The exhaustion is REAL, you dig?

But, not voting after having suffered through lo, these many decades, um, I mean, months of the continual audio, visual, verbal, non-verbal, broadcasting, streaming, signposting, and otherwise intrusively barraging of political consumer bullying?

​YES, I FEEL LEGIT HARASSED BY ALL THE MEANIES-- I digress.

The point is: going through all that, only to not at least have a say in how it all ends? Duh.

Well, that's just sillier than Wile. E. Coyote thinking he's FINALLY going to catch THE Roadrunner, Capisce?

That's a no go, bro.

Don't let anyone tell you how or where or why or what to decide --except the Big Guy. Just let your heart and conscious be your guide and do what YOU feel is best. Period.

Vote. That is all.

And, maybe start being nice to the other humans again? That'd be good, too.

​#Vote #MakeYourVoiceHeard #Pray #Peace  PHOTO COURTESY: #NoahPederson

WFH.
 
Now there’s an acronym I’ve only recently become familiar hearing and using.
 
It’s not a novel concept, mind you. For eons, lots o’ companies all over this big blue rock –huge corporations and even teeny weeny Ma-and-Pa type shops-- have employed thousands upon thousands of staffers who work from their homes.
 
Or, the first counter stool at Bob Evans … or the back end of the Starbucks café … or the common area of the public library or .. I don’t know, the bed of a pickup truck on a sunny day?
 
Either way, there are oodles and oodles of us are gladly punching the microwave coffee reheat button as our timeclock these days, you dig?
 
Indeed, the notion of ad-hoc or vendor services (precursor to WFH) is a time-honored tradition that started back in the days of, you know, like the starting of the days.
 
Think about it.
 
Do you honestly believe that Homo habilis really carved out his comfy rock formation casa with its state-of-the-art mud flooring and authentic branch rooftop complete with not-so-optional skylight all by himself? Hardly.
 
You and I both know he hired Caveman Contracting for the heavy boulder lifting on that one.
 
Truth be told, lots of folks have been working from home forever. For instance, um, farmers. Or um, tailors.
 
How about toolmakers or musicians or playwrights or bakers … or carpenters? Okay, I’m a big JC fan, had to slip it in.
 
I’m just sayin’ that WFH is hardly a new thing, obvi.
 
But, especially during like, you know, plagues and what not, it’s a really, really awesome old thing when your employer affords you that option. I speak of the one providing me security, convenience, and you know, the continued ability to live and breathe, Capisce?
 
I, for one, can’t thank my day job bosses enough for their incredible latitude and consideration in permitting my cohorts and moi safe, healthy, and what was that other kinda crucial thing?
 
Oh yeah, that’s right: earning a paycheck. #Blessed
 
I mean, commuting from the shower to the kitchen? Not that much traffic, yo. Basically just Monnie and her Mommy at the moment.
 
To be fair, there’s very little downside to WFH other than missing the person-to-person, er, in person parts.
 
And, maybe, like occasionally obsessing about why can’t I get the stupid lemon pepper seasoning shaker bottle out of the corner of the lazy Susan. BTW if she was lazy before, this whole swivel stopper situation put her in a spice-rack-induced coma, a’ight?
 
Or how the heck 17 generations of Charlotte’s descendants have established residence in every single room of my home?
 
You remember Charlotte, from her famous self-title spiderweb tale. Do you think it’d make a difference if I tell her I don’t eat pork? #ArachnaphobiaIsReal
 
But those are really the only things. Oh, and I suppose dealing with the rage monster.
 
You know, that beast who emerges every time a neighbor thinks I can act as a taxi service … or a repair-person doorman … or a provisional Amazon, Door Dash, or Giant Eagle depository … on a moment’s notice.  
 
I get it; you see my car in the driveway so you text or call or IM for a “quick favor”…which I’d normally gladly do! It’s just that, and don’t let this burden you in any way, but I’M FREAKING WORKING, PEOPLE!
 
Ahem. I digress. Monnie’s Mommy needs five. Stay well and happy, y’all!
 
Kimerer is a blissful telecommuting professional who loves you lots but can’t always stop what she’s doing to bathe your dog. Contact her at www.patriciakimerer.com

It's almost Halloween. 

I really don't care for Halloween. Okay, to be fair, certain things about Halloween, I do love.

Candy. Cuddle-able kiddos in cute costumes. Jack-O-Lantern masterpieces. Toasted punkin' seeds.

Um, yeah, that's all I got.

And this year, there's the whole "Should we or shouldn't we?" when it comes to having our children traverse door-to-door grabbing snacks (and maybe germs?) from strangers.

Ditto those poor strangers. Some of us are old and frail and what-not --I'm not entirely convinced we should really be doling out candy (and possibly a virus?) for two hours to a parade of unknowns.

Sigh. When did something so sweet and innocent get so scary and complicated? Ah, yes, of course.

​Thanks, 2020. You stink worse than gutted, rotting pumpkin guts sitting at the bottom of the trash can from 10.31 until garbage day. 

Did I mention we have to #FallBack this weekend so we get an extra hour of 2020 to enjoy? Blech.

But worse than the pandemic trick-or-treat trickiness is the general atmosphere of the humans these days. 

I don't know if it's COVID, the election tension, the notion of limited holiday gatherings, or just too much alone time but lately the fellow earth-dwellers are making me wish I lived on the FOURTH rock from the sun, Capisce?

Case in point: thank you, rude grocery store co-shopper. Not only did you ignore me when I tried to say Hello from a socially-distant spot in the aisle but you also rebuffed me when I asked if you'd mind if I made a wide swerve to your right after I'd patiently waited seven minutes for you to decide on a brand of black olives.

Too bad she couldn't have picked up a bag of polite or a box of kindness. She does realize common courtesy is free, right?

Rude. Come on, people, just because it's Halloween doesn't mean you have to act like a monster, yo.

Can't say I'll be sad when Halloween, COVID and naturally, 2020 are all just one jumbled, frightening memory. 

Be kind and hang in there, y'all!          #InItTogether #BeKind #Love #Pray #Peace #FallBack

As luck would have it, I happened to be working on a little sumthin’ sumthin’ at my day job this week as it relates to e-mail and telephone decorum.
 
Given our status of not being able to touch the other humans with a 10-foot pole these days, it seemed only fitting to shoot off a few reminders about how to co-speak professionally, respectfully, and well, just, well, in a nutshell.
 
Just your standard, regular old, what-we-oughta-be-doin’-as-a-rule-anyway kind of stuff. The fine art of essence expression, as it were. Things such as:
 
Essential E-Mail Etiquette:

• Include a clear subject matter.
• Use proper grammar always.
• Always use an appropriate/professional greeting and a signature block.
• Never send an e-mail generated out of emotion. Write but do not send it. Wait 24 hours then re-read and edit before hitting send.
• Be wary of using humor or colloquialism; this is easily misinterpreted.
• Consider the purpose of your email; does it NEED to be sent?
• It’s rarely useful/practical to REPLY ALL. Unless you’re a corporate communicator announcing a team-wide message – don’t REPLY ALL.
• Follow up in person when possible and appropriate. Answer all e-mail within 24 hours unless you are out of the office or otherwise unavailable.

 
--and---
 
Proper Phone Protocol:

• Speak clearly.
• Use your normal tone of voice.
• Do NOT eat or drink while on phone duty.
• Do NOT use slang or poor language/grammar.
• Address the caller properly and respectfully.
• Actively LISTEN to (silently!) to understand the caller’s key message or concern.
• Always be patient and helpful.
• Make sure your voice is smiling!

 
Now, at this writing, the second Presidential Debacle, oops, I mean, Debate, has yet to catch on fire. I’m sorry, again. I meant, transpire.
 
I’d love to fax, text, e-mail, phone-in, smoke signal, or otherwise shoot up a flare of my little decency reminders to President Trump and Vice President Biden. Seriously. Like, for reals.
 
But I don’t know that either side would welcome my talking points. In fact, I am fairly certain I’d have more luck getting preschoolers to adhere to them than these two ---and I’m going WAY, WAY out on a structurally unsound limb here— gentlemen.
 
So, I did a little digging and found the following Pre-K Classroom Rules that I think are equally applicable to: very small children just learning about life and very cranky old men vying to become the leader of the free pandemic world.
 
-Keep your hands to yourself. Indeed, six feet is not nearly far enough apart for this cantankerous couple.
-Cover your cough. Better still, maybe hold the entire event with masks on? That way, they’d spend the whole time going, “What did he say?”
-Be kind to each other. “Shut up.” “You’re stupid.” “He’s a clown.” Now, these are “no no” words; got it, mister?
-Listen to the teacher and take turns. To be clear, this doesn’t mean scream louder than your neighbor.
-Use your inside voice. What did I JUST say???
 
Even though I don’t know how it went; I can take a wild guess there were no bumped fists or air kisses, Capisce?
 
For the last time, you two, knock it off or you’re both headed to the corner … on a carpet square and seated crisscross applesauce. Good luck campaigning in the pretzel position, Grumpy Guses!
 
Kimerer is a columnist who just wants a little more nice …and nap time. Visit her via www.patriciakimerer.com

You know it. I know it…and the American people know it.
 
Eagle-eyed readers will recognize that phrase as a favorite go-to line of Bob Dole. You remember Bob Dole, right?
 
He used to be kind of a big deal. A retired American politician, statesman, and attorney, he served in both the House and the Senate and was the 1996 Republican presidential nominee.
 
Any who, old Bob (and I do mean old – he’s still kickin’ it in 2020 at 97!) loved a good quip back in his campaign-trail days. He even joked about his lovely wife Elizabeth being a bigger deal than he. “At least she’s president of something, which is more than I can say,” he laughed after his failed run at the Presidency.
 
Either way, I dug him. Still do. Yep, I loved Bob Dole despite the fact he often referred to himself as “Bob Dole”.
 
All that to say: You know it. I know it. And the American people know it: this year’s election cycle is a bit of cyclone. In fact, if it was a dryer setting, I’d dub it the “Typhoon Tumbler”.
 
Indeed, the dryer load equivalent to this election would be the one in which someone accidentally dropped a blood red dress in with the whites…and a fur coat…and a goose down pillow--with a hole in it…and a pair of bedazzled jeans---that have chewed up wads of gum in each pocket.
 
Yeah, it’s that messy, yo.
 
On the one hand, you’ve got the sitting Pres. He’s bossy and loud and crass and rigid. Nobody really likes him.
 
On the other hand, you’ve got Joe I’m-Barely-Conscious Biden. He’s scattered and confused and not terribly effective ---especially since he’s been in office for about 892 years. Nobody really likes him.
 
Sigh.
 
This sorta seems like a no win sitch. I mean, I can’t really get behind anybody con much gusto, capsice?
 
Sure, it isn’t the first time we’ve had a “Well, I really detest him/her a smidgeon less, I guess?” state of affairs when it comes to this big decision.
 
Again with the sighing.
 
I guess I’m just wondering why we can never have candidates we really feel AWESOME about supporting? Like, say, for instance, Robert Downey, Jr. Now, I could totally get behind him for President.
 
He’s America’s comeback kid, yo. He made every mistake out there and still wound up as “Iron Man”/”Sherlock Holmes”. Um, hello? Winner winner chicken shawarma dinner.
 
Or how about Eddie Murphy? He’s quick and funny and can work a crowd. I mean, if he can tame “Shrek”; Kim Jong un’s got no chance against his charms, am I right?
 
Or, what about my favorite pick of all…Dolly Parton? She’s larger than life (well parts of her, anyway) but despite all the glitz and glamour and self-proclaimed “cheapo wigs”; this woman is a survivor. She came from nothing to become a country, television, and even movie star.
 
Yet somehow, she still seems real…and warm…and caring…and kind.
 
She’s the American dream…all wrapped up in the most adorably patriotic, God-and-people loving, southern-drawlin’ package. And everybody loves her.
 
Heck, she even makes her own Butterscotch Pie with Walnut-Bacon Toffee. Can’t you just see those savory state dinners going that much smoother? Sorry, not sorry, Michelle Obama. #AmericansLikeCarbs
 
Dolly 2020, y’all!
 
Kimerer is a columnist who isn’t thrilled by the Presidential prospects but DID #VoteEarly … and wants you to, too. Visit her at www.patriciakimerer.com