AFTER THE LAST RATHER NEGATIVE BLOG about snow and the fact that Thanksgiving is upon us, I thought perhaps the following was in order: Scottish minister Alexander Whyte was known for his uplifting prayers in the pulpit. He always found something for which to be grateful. One Sunday morning the weather was so gloomy that one church member thought to himself, "Certainly the preacher won't think of anything for which to thank the Lord on a wretched day like this." Much to his surprise, however, Whyte began by praying, "We thank Thee, O God, that it is not always like this."

In Africa, there is a fruit called the Richardella-dulcisica, better known as the “taste-berry.” When eaten, it causes the taste buds to experience all food eaten afterwards -- even distasteful food -- as sweet and delicious.

Gratitude is the “taste berry of Christianity, and when our hearts are filled with it, nothing that God allows to come our way seems unpleasant to us.
The sorrowing heart can be sweetened by gratitude. Burdened souls can be lightened by singing God’s praises. Discouraged ones can be lifted by counting their blessings.

There are people who, through their love and compassion, make the lives of those with whom they come in contact better. Like the taste-berry, these people can turn a sour day into a joyful adventure.

In Taste-Berry Tales, Bettie B. Youngs inspires readers with 25 poignant short stories of real-life people who make a difference in the lives of others. These individuals, by their example, show us how to use the events of daily life to improve the world we live in and the lives of others with whom we share it. When we help others by sharing the sweetness of life's joys and easing the bitterness of its losses, we become, in the best sense of the words, "our brothers' keepers." Youngs plays this role for readers, showing them a world that is full of hope. Everyone who reads this book will discover that their dreams are not only possible, but also more glorious than they ever realized.

The story is told of a man who found the barn where Satan stores the seeds he sows in the human heart: envy, greed, anger, hatred, lust, and so on. The man soon noticed that Satan had more seeds of discouragement than of any other kind. He learned that those seeds could be made to grow almost anywhere. When Satan was questioned, he reluctantly admitted that there was one place in which he could not get them to grow. "And where is that?" asked the man. Satan replied sadly, "In the heart of a thankful man." Something tells me that this thankful man subsisted on a diet of “taste berry’s.”

WELL, THE FIRST SERIOUS SNOWFALL HAPPENED TODAY. In Michigan it means the onset of winter. On the calendar it’s supposed to begin December 20th, but not up north! Here it arrives the end of October and I must say, I’ve come to dread it as I grow older. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I didn’t used to feel that way. In fact, as a youngster I looked forward to winter. I couldn’t wait for it to snow. I have mostly pleasant memories associated with this time of year. After all, I grew up in the Finger Lakes region of New York State, only about 15 miles from Lake Ontario. We had tons of snow every year.

Martin’s Hill was a favorite hangout. We would take our toboggans there and spend the entire afternoon. I also have fond memories of sliding down hill on McDermott Street and ice skating on Wide Waters. And then there was the attempt at skiing on a very small incline in my neighborhood. Perhaps best of all was the construction of snowmen and snow forts. And to top it all off, there were the snowball fights. Just thinking about those days makes me smile, until I hear the engine of the snowplow reminding me of work ahead.

I longed for the snow to fall back then, because first and foremost it meant that school was cancelled. Yea! But now the sight of it makes me shudder. Why? What happened? Is it all about growing up? No, I don’t think so. I know lots of folks that still participate in these activities. I think they’re a bit deranged, or maybe they’re in their second childhood. But then that’s just my opinion.

As I see it, snow is part of our fallen world. It means the absence of color, and the onset of frostbite, accidents on the highways, walkways, and runways, cancellation of important events, and that ever-dreaded shoveling! Our weather lady on TV has an evil smirk on her face—no, make that a broad grin, when giving a forecast that predicts snow. She acts as though she actually likes the stuff!

I must admit however, that on certain days there is a bit of beauty in it as it lies on branches, sparkling in the sun. Oops, I just remembered, the sun doesn’t shine up here in the Gray Lakes from November through March. Given the choice and the means, I would spend the winter months on the beach!

Come on, be honest now. Have you not felt just a little peeved when after shoveling the whole driveway, the snowplow came along and filled in the end with about 4 feet of snow? Or what about the time it snowed so hard that within 10 minutes after clearing the driveway, it was filled in again. I hate snow! All snowflakes have six sides to them. Did you know that? That’s why they hurt so much when they cut into your face! Remember the time you were snow-blowing your walkway, shooting it out in front of you when suddenly, without warning, the wind shifted and it came smashing into your face? Now I ask you, is this fun? I hate snow. In fact, I detest it so much that I wrote a little poem about it. Enjoy (unless you like that white terror).

Sliding through the snow in my brand new Chevrolet,
O’er the roads we go, screaming all the way
Sirens can be heard, many times a day
How many times I’ve often wished
I was riding in a sleigh.

Lake effect snow, lake effect snow
Lake effect snow again,
Oh what fun it isn’t to shovel
The driveway once again

THERE’S AN AWFUL LOT OF TALK ABOUT GREED THESE DAYS, what with the financial crisis taking place in America and around the world. The government is handing out billions of dollars to corporate America with almost no strings attached (how absurd!) in hopes of rescuing our economy from utter collapse. And now reports are surfacing regarding huge bonuses for upper level management. It’s somewhat like rewarding failure. I just don’t get it.

Oftentimes the most miserable and fearful people are those who have great riches. They are never satisfied. They always want a little more. When Calouste Gulbenkian died in 1955, he left a fortune of $420 million! Did riches bring him happiness and peace? No, of course not. In fact, he lived in constant fear. An electric barrier surrounded his home in Paris and many private guards and spies guarded him and his mansion. Now I ask you, what kind of way is that to live?

Money will buy a bed not sleep, books, but not brains, food, but not appetite, finery, but not beauty, a house, but not a home, medicine, but not health, luxuries, but not culture, amusement, but not joy.

In 1923 a group of the world’s most successful financiers met at the Edgewater Beach Hotel in Chicago. Collectively, these tycoons controlled more wealth at that time than there was in the U.S. Treasury. For years newspapers and magazines had been printing their success stories and urging the youth of the nation to follow their examples. Twenty seven years later, here’s what happened to them:

Charles Schwab - the president of the largest independent steel company lived on borrowed money the last 5 years of his life, and died penniless.
Arthur Cutten - the greatest speculator died abroad insolvent.
Richard Whitney - the president of the New York Stock Exchange was released from Sing Sing prison.
Albert Fall - a member of the President’s Cabinet was pardoned from prison so he could die at home.
Jesse Livermore - the greatest bear in Wall Street committed suicide.
Leon Frazer - the president of the Bank of International Settlement committed suicide.
Ivar Krueger - the head of the world’s greatest monopoly committed suicide.

All of these men had learned how to make money, but not one of them had learned how to live.