Alex Massie reflecting on our American Thanksgiving. I completely agree with the sentiment that this is what a holiday should be.
Most of all, however, July 4th celebrates abstract ideas and impersonal institutions. These have their place and their value, but Thanksgiving is a more intimate, personal affair, inviting us to focus on the connections and relationships that really matter, that really make a difference in our lives. In that sense too, it is a day for reflection, not action, and all the better for it.
The whole article is definitely worth a read. I can fully appreciate the sentiment of being a foreigner on Thanksgiving. I spent a Thanksgiving in Reading, England during college. Somehow, I and my fellow compatriots managed a small, not very well constructed feast. Each one of us hailed from a different part of the US, yet we were all together and quite thankful for it. I’m sure some Brits were along with us, and during these holidays, the world follows the proper sentiment of ‘the more, the merrier’.
I have so much to be thankful for that it defies numeration. One can see in the video below that I have even more to be thankful for now. My wife, my children, my home, my job, shoes on my feet, my talents, my skills, my fingers, my toes, music in all its forms. The very air filling my lungs.
Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! Just eat, drink, and be grateful; that’s all there is to it.
It threw me at first, but since it was still delicious, delicious milk inside (nectar of the Hindu gods, as I say), I didn’t mind it.
The only downside of the cubic jugs that I can see?
Drinking straight from them is so awkward as to make it now impossible.
There’s something about the comic Ballard Street that tickles me the right way:
I missed Sunday blogging again. Oh sure, I could cheat and backdate the post, but nah. I like my weekend absences; they give more precedence to the week, for both my writing and hopefully your reading.
Also, weekends tend to be when I’m actively engaged with my kids or working on some household project that I wouldn’t want to take on during the week. This weekend I finally finished the basement guest room to the point where it seems welcoming to those who might stay with us for the first time since our roommate moved out over a year ago.
The finishing touch the room for now was finally hanging up some wonderful pictures my father had framed for me. One is the goofy picture of the marching band from my senior year of high school. In it are a large number of people whose names I can still recall. And me. Jumping. My tenor sax in the air and I am caught mid-flight off a set of bleachers.
The other is a jazz combo concert poster from college. It has a number of us in black with cool outlining effects, and there I am with my back arched and my tenor sax up in the air again. I like that poster too because it’s got one of my best college friends on there with me.
Hanging those up was a little bittersweet for me. I miss having music in my life right now. I’m feeling too worn out from the kids and work to do more beyond helping the beginning band students at the school. Part of me really, truly misses playing with my combo. Though we were only together for about a year, that short time meant worlds to me.
I know I can’t miss it all that much. I have my wonderful family because I left my hometown. It could not have happened had I stayed where I was.
Still, music is missed. I will indeed have it back someday.
This is a blog post.