The First Thanksgiving
Americans revive spirit of first Thanksgiving by carrying disease to new areas
“I was watching a PBS special about the Pilgrims,” one American said, “and they spent their entire first winter in Massachusetts before Thanksgiving just watching their family members die. They carried them out to the woods, propped them up against trees and left them there to give the illusion that the settlement was guarded. That wasn’t something we incorporated into our Thanksgiving before, but it’s never too late to start a new tradition.”
From a delightful piece in the Washington Post. Behind their pay-wall, I think. But here’s the link.
I like pumpkin pie as well as the next guy but let’s face it: Thanksgiving –and Xmas for that matter– are made-up holidays. Like Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day and all the rest. Mostly about selling stuff. So putting family at risk for some cranberry sauce? Just selfish. I’ll celebrate “thanksgiving” on the day people start getting vaccinated.
It’s a mystery (Shakespeare In Love)
The Universe knows what it’s doing. I mostly find it true. My favorite cinematic example is from Shakespeare In Love.
Balloon Bouquet
Barb has been scratching her creative itch by making balloon…things for her nieces and nephews. And balloon bouquets (above) for a couple of friends.
On not wanting children
From a 2016 essay (My Biological Clock Can’t Tick Fast Enough) by Sari Botton:
“People sometimes commend me on how “brave” it was for us to not have children. I laugh, because to my mind, I arrived at it in just about the most cowardly way: I lucked into childlessness (if having a defective uterus can be considered luck). Deep down I didn’t want to have children, but I kept limping toward motherhood anyway, because I thought I should want them until, in the end, my anatomy dictated my destiny.”
Instashield
I’ve long admired the face shield worn by Kansas City Chiefs head coach Andy Reid. So I ordered a couple for Barb and me. I like this model because it slips onto the bill of a cap which makes it easy to wear.
More and more health care pros are recommending eye protection for indoor situations and while Barb and I have been able to avoid being indoors, a situation might come up where it’s unavoidable. We would, of course, be masked behind the shield. Ounce of prevention = pound of cure.
The Great Disappointment
We don’t argue with Alzheimer’s patients
Several years ago I started wearing a little button that read NO POLITICS, NO RELIGION. I consider myself a spiritual person but have no use for organized religion. And, in my experience, there was no such thing as a “religious discussion.” This is just an opportunity for the Believer to persuade you to become a Believer, too. I know you mean well, but no thanks.
Political “discussions” are equally bogus. A pointless exercise in which one person tries to convince the other person they are “wrong.” Ever heard of that happening? Neither have I.
As Trumpism has infected our country, I’ve struggled with how to feel about acquaintances who worship the man. Should I “unfriend” them? Pretend I don’t find their positions offensive? Feels intellectually dishonest. This morning I think I’ve found a way I can live with.
My late father spent the last few years of his life in a nursing home, suffering from Alzheimer’s Disease. As the disease progressed he became belligerent and — on a couple of occasions — violent. Punched his roommate who had to be moved to a different room.
Anyone who’s been through this experience knows you don’t have a discussion with your loved one. Like Elvis, your loved one has left the building.
The next time someone I know starts with the crazy Trump shit I’ll remind myself they can’t help it. You don’t “get over” Alzheimer’s Disease and you don’t get over Trumpism.
I salute President Biden’s pledge to be a president for all Americans, whether they voted for him or not. But it will be palliative care. We’ll never be “one nation” if, in fact, we ever were. But an effective, caring government can take care of everyone.
The tofu of cursing
“They weren’t loud people and didn’t even sound all that angry, really. This was just the way they spoke, the verbal equivalent of their everyday china. Among company, the wife might remark that she felt a slight chill, but here that translated to “I am fucking freezing.”
“Me too,” her husband said. “It’s cold as shit in here.” Shit is the tofu of cursing and can be molded to whichever condition the speaker desires. Hot as shit. Windy as shit.”
— The Best of Me (David Sedaris)
Fearless or foolish?
The photo below was taken this morning at the Coffee Zone in Jefferson City, MO. My favorite pre-Covid hangout. Zero masks. Our county has 5,426 confirmed cases. 88+ on Friday. 38 deaths so far and an infection rate of 7%.
