Thank God it's ... Monday?

I've worked for the newspaper for 10 years now.

Yeah, 10 years. That's a LOT of Pontiac Aztek jokes.

And during that time, I've done everything from obituaries to school reporting and whatever the heck it is I do now. And I'll be the first to admit, it's an awesome job. But I'd be lying if I said I had a full appreciation for just how lucky I was to get paid to write nonsense for a living until this year. Faced with one of the toughest economic stretches our generation has seen, I've watched some of my closest friends -- both at the newspaper and in other lines of work -- lose their jobs during this awful recession.

So as we celebrate Thanksgiving today, I am thankful for a lot of things: My wife, my parents, my health and, thanks to a little thing called perspective, my job.

Just a few of the reasons why are ...

The people.

Over the years I've gotten to meet some amazing people doing this job. Stephen Colbert, Garrison Keillor, David Copperfield, Dan Aykroyd -- the list goes on. But, no lie, an even bigger thrill has to be the regular, everyday people I meet who underscore just how lucky I am and how easy it is to take things for granted.

People like Riley. When Riley was 6 months old, he was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia, a form of cancer that attacks the bone marrow. After several chemotherapy treatments, doctors thought they had cured him. But as is the case with most aggressive forms of cancer, it retook control of Riley's body, leaving him on the wrong end of the hourglass. But what was incredible was that, unlike adults, he didn't whine or complain about his situation one bit. In fact, his top priority as far as I could tell was tricking the nurses into letting him watch his "Tickle Me Elmo" DVDs all day.

And then there was Kevyns, the 16-year-old who wanted nothing more in life than to just be a 16-year-old. Instead, Kevyns spent most of his life in hospitals having eight surgeries to fix his heart. But Kevyns' attitude was incredible, simply saying to me: "This is just the way it is. I've been doing it so long it's not really a big deal. Sure, there's days when you just want to say, 'I quit,' but you can't quit. Because then you'll end up right where you didn't want to go in the first place." Ironically, it was his parents who suffered the most from a broken heart.

The experiences.

This job has allowed me to do more things than I could ever dream of. Things such as carry the Olympic torch before the 2002 Games in Salt Lake City; pilot the Goodyear blimp; be a ball boy for Anna Kournikova; walk a high wire with the Flying Wallendas; battle a real-life blaze with the Charleston Fire Department; write speeding tickets with the Mount Pleasant Police Department; train for overseas deployment with the Air Force; handle bees, dogs, Grizzly bears and tigers; drive race cars, Zambonis and helicopters; be on TV and radio; and it even landed me in People magazine.

How many accountants can say that about their job?

The opportunities.

Being somewhat of a public figure means occasionally I get asked to do stuff for charitable organizations. And I can honestly say it's one of the easiest ways to do something for the community. It's almost like cheating. I mean, all I have to do is show up and people thank me and are nice to me, and then when I'm done, I usually have some bag of goodies and this goofy notion that I just did something good.

The memories.

There is no way in my life that I ever thought writing a humor column (most common reaction, "Oh, THAT'S what this is?") would allow me to affect real change in people's lives. But quite often I get e-mails from people telling me how much they enjoy laughing for a change instead of reading about murder and disaster. But nothing could compare to the letter I got from a sweet lady named Lizann.

In 2002, back when I used to get out of the office more, I spent a day as a seventh-grader with a kid named Willy. Willy, who was 13 at the time, was my self-proclaimed "No. 1 fan." During our day at school together, we had a blast, and afterward I wrote about how much fun he was to hang out with. It was another week, another column. Or so I thought.

Then, about three months later, I received a letter from Willy's mom, the aforementioned Lizann, explaining that the column about our day together "was THE highlight of 7th grade for him." She went on to say:

"I know that you weren't trying to touch someone's life like this, but you did. And that's why this is so hard to write because I'm not sure anyone who hasn't given birth can understand the depth of my appreciation. ... Know what you did positively impacted Willy in a wonderful way."

Today, that letter is framed in my bedroom by my computer. The very spot from where I write many of my columns. It serves as a reminder that this job isn't just about me. It's about all the people I meet along the way who help make me a better writer and, more importantly, a better person.

So today, I'm thankful for my job. Plain and simple. It's a gift to get to do this for a living and I know that. Especially when I probably would be better suited as a Pontiac Aztek crash test dummy.

Bryce Donovan wants to wish everybody a happy Thanksgiving. Reach him at 937-5938 or bdonovan@postandcourier.com.