There’s a lot in this world you may take for granted. Indeed, it would be a difficult chore to be continually grateful for each and every good thing in your life. After all, in a single given day there is not only a lovely sunrise but also a rather fine sunset. There are the people who love us and those whom we love. Then there are the bazillion little kindnesses and advantages that come to us — not because we deserve them — simply as a matter of happenstance. I’m talking about the nice-but-too-little-to-take-conscious-notice-of things like a green light when you’re running late, finding your favorite ice cream on sale at the grocery store, or making it back to your car before the meter attendant can pull out the trusty ticket book.

It would be great if we had the time, energy and presence of mind to notice all the good stuff in the world around us, but that would significantly reduce the time we have for the more important things in life — like watching “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
So, how about this: Once in a while (perhaps during a commercial break), take stock of your situation and find something to be grateful for that you might not have paid much attention to before. For starters, I’d like to propose that those of you reading this column be grateful for your literacy.
Since most of you reading this are or have been in college, I’m going to assume that your literacy is a fairly well-established fact by now. But, have you ever imagined what it would be like to be illiterate?
Personally, I don’t have to imagine it because I’ve experienced it first-hand. Several years ago, I moved to Japan, and I can vividly recall the trip from the airport to the hotel — I looked at this place that was to be my home, and I realized that I couldn’t read any of the signs. I saw the occasional trademark or logo that I recognized, but all the media around me were indecipherable.
It was scary.
For the next few weeks, I dealt with immense insecurity. I was terrified of getting lost because I couldn’t read the street signs. I had to leave some restaurants because I couldn’t read their menus. I even had trouble at the grocery store; unless the package had pictures, I couldn’t tell what was inside.
Eventually, I began to cope. I became familiar with enough kanji to know the difference between a bookstore and a bar. I learned to navigate by landmarks instead of street signs; to this day I get a kick out of recalling that to get to the veterinarian you turned left at the large purple gorilla and right at the building with the green cross painted on it.
Nevertheless, I was always aware of how vulnerable I was because of my illiteracy. When I received a bill from the electric company, it showed numerous columns of figures. I knew I was supposed to pay the one on the bottom, but if they were overcharging me I had no way of disputing it. The contract for my apartment was in Japanese. I signed it based on the information the rental agent gave me. For all I know, I may have signed away my firstborn child when I thought I was promising to clean the floors.
After years of coping with illiteracy, I returned home to Eugene. Life became much simpler. Once again, I was independent. Need I say I was grateful?
That was four years ago. I don’t remember to be grateful for my literacy everyday. In fact, when faced with the reading my professors think appropriate for one evening, I am sometimes extremely UNgrateful.
Then I met Wanda. Wanda is a middle-aged woman who has spent most of her life doing and selling drugs. It was all she thought she could do to support herself and her children. You see, while anything but stupid, Wanda couldn’t read. Eventually, Wanda went to prison.
It turns out that going to prison was something Wanda would be grateful for. You see, while in prison, this middle-aged drug user and dealer finally learned how to read.
Now, out of prison, Wanda proudly tells people that she has a job — she’s the assistant manager at a fast-food restaurant — and is reading at the third grade level. Wanda has changed her life. Knowing Wanda has changed mine. I am grateful.
Editor’s note: To protect her identity, Wanda’s real name is not used.