In July of 1957, a little over 50 years ago, while my father’s first wife was pregnant with their third child, she died as she prepared “the noon meal.”

Whether from a brain hemorrhage or a blood clot that went to her heart, she left behind a husband and two boys as they gathered the family cash crop of watermelons from the field.

At his wife’s funeral, my father’s brothers literally had to carry him from the church; he was distraught with grief. However, he would soon rebound, venturing to the hills of North Autauga County to visit with the mother of two daughters, who had been a widow for 10 years.

Now, mind you, this was no easy acquisition. My father courted the lady that would be my mother for three years before she agreed to marry him and leave the hills for Autaugaville. Three more years would pass before my grandfather, Walter Manning, died bringing the girls here to live with their new father, his two sons, and “the babies” as they are still called — one boy and one girl. My mother and father now had a symmetrical brood of six.

Here in Autaugaville, my parents made a life for their children, all of whom but one managed to marry. The four oldest produced nine grandchildren, each with a role in today’s society. Looking back on it, I am sure it wasn’t easy with 10 people in that big ole house, each with his own mind and thoughts on how best to get things done. Two of those minds were my father’s in-laws from his first marriage.

Each of my family members has a lot to be thankful for, as do each of you. In your case, it may simply be that your in-laws do not reside with you.

Although it’s been six years since my father died, we continue to be thankful. The life of each member of my family would have been different had it not been for the effort to begin anew made by our parents.

My brother-in-law, Ed, has two grown sons and a wife, who still puts up with him. She is one of those little girls Junior Brown helped his wife take from the country to come live in the “big city.” And I am thankful for their courage — my father’s courage to move on, seeking another mate, and my mother’s courage to leave all she ever knew for the small town of Autaugaville. If not for the courage of both of them, I simply would not be.

And as we sit down this week around the table, be it in Selma, Demopolis, or along the coast in Baldwin County, it is my hope that each of us is reminded of those things for which we should be thankful. As my father would say, “rest assured” I am thankful for the three ladies who give me an opportunity, each week, to reach out to each of you.