As we all gather for this fine repast, the question might arise. What are we thankful for? It's a good question. So lets ponder it shall we.
Wikipedia states :
Thanksgiving Day is a harvest festival celebrated primarily in the United States and Canada. Traditionally, it has been a time to give thanks for a bountiful harvest. While it may have been religious in origin, Thanksgiving is now primarily identified as a secular holiday. It is sometimes casually referred to as Turkey Day.
Well, while a harvest festival is great and all, most of the people are hitting the supermarket, so it really doesn't count unless your a farmer. Turkey day name kinda of kills the thankfulness idea. Unless your thankful for gluttony which really is no reason to have a holiday. We also can take the story about the Pilgrams and the Indians, At least the one I was told in elementary school. In which the gathered together for bountiful harvest and celebrate the sharing for knowledge. Great story for children but hard to really swallow now that I'm an adult. With it ending in the supplanting a indigenous culture and making it look all rosey just doesn't sit right with me.
So I guess that just leaves us to wonder, what are we thankful for? What is so important that I want to give thanks for it? Celebrate it as a holiday and is not make it feel superficial. Give it meaning? Times are tough, watching the news and listening to people talk, you see that there are plenty with alot less than you or I might have. Not saying we have much, but still you get the picture. Could I give thanks for that and not feel contrite. I guess its possible. I mean I work hard, that means something. What about the friends, family, pets I have? Yeah, I really am thankful for them. Life would be meaningless to me with out them. I mean who really wants to be alone?
I guess what I'm saying is lets all put a little persective on this holiday again. Lets all be sure that we put the "Thanks" back in the Thanksgiving. So when you look around the table today and start to gaze at the food your about to eat and the people who have gathered to be with you. Take a moment and reflect on who and what you have and on what they mean to you and be sure to give them the proper "Thanks" and cherish the moment. I know I will.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
A Moment In Time
I was recently reading a blog that a friend wrote on his photo of his Grandmother house, and it got me to thinking about my own Grandmother, or I should say Grandma, as this is what I called her.
Unlike a lot of kids I knew who had a two sets of Grandparents, I only had one My Grandma and Bub. Yeah we called my Grandfather "Bub", I don't really know why but its what I always called him. But anyways I cherished these people.
Grandma was a tough old broad. She could cook virtually anything and made it all taste great. Being a fat kid I loved going to Grandma's house because there was always something good to eat. She taught me that is always OK to ask questions, because its the only way to get the answers. She taught me to experiment when cooking because you never what you may create. The taught me how to say "Beer" and "Thank You" In Portuguese's so when I went to Brazil I could have fun but be polite while doing it.
She was a fountain of strength and respect. She spoke here mind quite liberally and with a swear here and there. She love to listen to public radio stations in which she cursed whatever politician was making an ass of himself currently. She was the yin to my grandfathers yang. If opposites attracted they were living proof of it.
But my Grandma had a secret. She had a soft side. I side I never really saw until I read a diary. It was a diary that she started the day my father left for Vietnam and ended when she got the telegram about his being seriously wounded. I found it one time when I was staying over here house and was looking for something to read. Once opened and could not put it down.
The diary is fairly short and take place in a little less than a year of periodic entries. In it she only makes entries when she gets communications from my Dad. They are basic and to the point, but they captured a feeling of what she was going through at the time. It conveyed to me alot of raw emotion that I never really saw in her before. The worry and love of a mother for her son.
I never told her that I read this diary. A bit ashamed that I was reading such private things. But when she passed and my Dad called me to ask if there was anything of hers I wanted, I asked only for this diary for it held to me a moment in time for my Grandma and my Dad, and I will cherish it forever.
I
Unlike a lot of kids I knew who had a two sets of Grandparents, I only had one My Grandma and Bub. Yeah we called my Grandfather "Bub", I don't really know why but its what I always called him. But anyways I cherished these people.
Grandma was a tough old broad. She could cook virtually anything and made it all taste great. Being a fat kid I loved going to Grandma's house because there was always something good to eat. She taught me that is always OK to ask questions, because its the only way to get the answers. She taught me to experiment when cooking because you never what you may create. The taught me how to say "Beer" and "Thank You" In Portuguese's so when I went to Brazil I could have fun but be polite while doing it.
She was a fountain of strength and respect. She spoke here mind quite liberally and with a swear here and there. She love to listen to public radio stations in which she cursed whatever politician was making an ass of himself currently. She was the yin to my grandfathers yang. If opposites attracted they were living proof of it.
But my Grandma had a secret. She had a soft side. I side I never really saw until I read a diary. It was a diary that she started the day my father left for Vietnam and ended when she got the telegram about his being seriously wounded. I found it one time when I was staying over here house and was looking for something to read. Once opened and could not put it down.
The diary is fairly short and take place in a little less than a year of periodic entries. In it she only makes entries when she gets communications from my Dad. They are basic and to the point, but they captured a feeling of what she was going through at the time. It conveyed to me alot of raw emotion that I never really saw in her before. The worry and love of a mother for her son.
I never told her that I read this diary. A bit ashamed that I was reading such private things. But when she passed and my Dad called me to ask if there was anything of hers I wanted, I asked only for this diary for it held to me a moment in time for my Grandma and my Dad, and I will cherish it forever.
I
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