“… old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.” – J.K. Rowling

Thanksgiving is a day to pause, to take inventory. I am fortunate to count family and friends as a given, but then there is so much more: my home, my fellow-writers, volunteers, my profession, The Stones, all the inspiring people at Back on My Feet, the discovery of espresso, peace, the streets of Philly, reasonably priced quality cigars, people who overcome debilitating challenges and disasters and find a way to smile, Jason & Carley, Guinness, le Tour, the potato, my Mom, runners in their sixties and seventies who have that sparkle of youth in their eyes, the bloggers I follow, Thunder Road, Running of the Bulls, Paris, the memory of my Dad, the World Cup, Camino de Santiago, corn, my kids, daring people, pepper jack, my health, Mexican food, and finally, waking up in the middle of the night laughing my ass off at some wild-ass dream that I can only remember remnants of, hoping the parts I forgot come true.  


About Jim Brennan

Jim is a Philadelphia-based writer, author, poet and editor for the Schuylkill Valley Journal.
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