The last 24 hours have been something of a challenge to the Grateful Spirit in this country, but I was reminded again this afternoon of how thankful I am that I live in Prairie Metropolis (and have done for lo! these forty-plus years -- "pretty soon I think I am born here" as the old woman said).
I am thankful to live in a city where bus drivers ease their way in and out of puddles at the curb so as not to drench the passers-by; and where bus passengers disembarking from the rear doors call out "THANK YOU!" to the driver when the doors open.
And I am thankful to live in a city where throughout the day today, our municipal cenotaph was guarded by Canadian veterans in their grey flannels and their blue blazers and their berets and their glengarries and their medals.
I am grateful to live where we can remember a multitude of men and women who have chosen to put themselves in harm's way in order that the rest of us can come and go freely and play frisbee with our children on government property, and not, every moment of the day, fear for our very lives.