Jim Olson

Originally authored November 25, 1997

Edited and First published 11/25/21

As an adult with adult responsibilities, I could easily be accused of spending too much time of late thinking of simple pleasures.  I can only imagine that all this reflection is the result of the recent loss of both my father and father-in-law. 

These losses have had the expected effects on my daughters; and from that comes thoughts of youthful innocence.  Chelsea at the age of 11 and Briana at the age of 7 have recently traveled an understandable gauntlet of emotions. They cling, they laugh, they cry, they play.  In this field of emotions, they have exposed to me the purity of heart which allows them to appreciate simple pleasures which are immediate, and remain in the forefront of their minds.

Driving Chelsea to school days ago, there was talk of the coming Thanksgiving Holiday and in a startling moment of clarity, I experienced a long-lost memory of myself with eyes closed, hands outstretched, head back, and breathing the crisp clear cold air of a long past Thanksgiving morning.

From the ages of 11 to 16, I carried newspapers in the early morning hours to the homes in my neighborhood, and holidays were no exception to the delivering of the news.   Holidays, however, were always exceptional for the feeling of that early morning work.  Delivering papers on these days gave me an indescribable feel of freedom.  No school, no plans, and little to think about than what the day itself would bring. 

I had come to the top of a hill feeling almost giddy when the dawn began to lighten the sky.  Our neighborhood was as silent as the woods that surrounded it, and in that moment between darkness and light, the sky filled with the largest snowflakes I had ever seen in my lifetime.  There was an absence of even the lightest wind, and the snowflakes seemed to be suspended for seconds at a time before moving ever lower to a flawless, snow covered ground.

I recall the whole of the moment as breathtaking.  Not a single sound. Crystal cold air. Stillness unequaled save for the snowflakes which removed all else from my vision.  I seized at the moment, not knowing I was creating memory of pure simple pleasure. Head back, arms outstretched and taking great cleansing breaths without so much as a subconscious thought of being observed, I stood and was moved joyfully by God’s bestowed beauty.

I hope to recapture more of those moments of simple pleasure if my duty in adult stoicism will grant me leave for it.  I challenge myself now to do so, and in doing so, allow my daughters to be children for as many Thanksgivings and days to follow as possible.