Right now I’m in the middle of my Thanksgiving preparations. I’m having, essentially, the same menu I’ve had for a dozen years. A list of links to the recipes is here. A picture of our Thanksgiving table is here.
Our custom, as had been the custom of my mom and dad, is for each person, beginning with the youngest and ending with the eldest, to say what they’re thankful for before we begin eating. Last year we had a crowd—all of my siblings and most of their children with spouses and significant others. This year it will just be my wife, me, and a dear old friend. Saying what we’re thankful for won’t take nearly as long and we can get to our dinner all the sooner.
I’m sure I won’t be the youngest to see this but I’ll start anyway.
First and foremost as always I am thankful for my dear wife. Her love and support makes every day a joy.
I’m thankful for the continuing good health, prosperity, and happiness of my siblings, their spouses, my nephews and nieces, and their spouses or significant others. We’re all alive, striving, sane, not in jail, not addicted to drugs or alcohol, and paying our bills. That’s a lot to be thankful for.
I’m thankful for all of my dogs but especially for our beloved Tally. At fourteen years and nearly eight months every single day is a gift for which I’m thankful. I can’t even begin to tell you how much she has taught us and enriched our lives.
I’m thankful for my clients. Each and every one of them has less business than they did five years ago, in some cases due to the recession and its aftermath, in others for entirely different reasons. That means that I have less business, too. Honestly, I could use another twenty billable hours a month but others are in so much more serious straits I can only say that I’m grateful for what I have.
Finally and significantly, I’m thankful for my readers. You energize me, challenge me, keep me honest, teach me. You help me to maintain my sanity in a world hurtling towards madness. For that I am sincerely thankful.
Thanks. That’s moving, and I could basically say the same. But every time I do, I think of all those who don’t have my privileges, don’t have a voice, don’t have a vote, don’t have opportunity and don’t even have a table to put the turkey on, even if they had one.
My dear mother, who grew up on a depression-era farm, never let a “hobo” leave our Chicago backdoor without at least a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich. I think the socialism of our Amerika, however, would knock the stuffing out of her.
Nowadays, kids can’t play in the streets, any hobo is arrested, and not only poor Whites, like us, but all Blacks and Hispanics among us never even see a national park or forest, or state park or beach. If Darwin hadn’t invented TV and video games, we’d all be miserable.
All that, and this beautiful a cappela “Lets Us Break Bread Together”:
http://youtu.be/030GiUj93lo
How about this?:
http://youtu.be/x3dXCL34aEA
I put my wife at the top of my list also. I am thankful that my kids are healthy and doing ok so far. Thankful for family and friends as you describe. Thankful to have work and to work at a good place with really good people. I am also thankful to be alive. I should have probably died several times in the past, but was lucky.
Thank you and your readers. I learn a lot and enjoy the occasional verbal joust.
Steve
Takes me back to my choirmaster days. I love “We Gather Together”, too. I always make a point of programming it at Thanksgiving. At one time or another I’ve sung each of the lines in that arrangement in register, bass, tenor, alto, except soprano. Whatever the choir needed. It’s essentially the standard organ arrangement with a few embellishments.
As you may know it’s originally a Dutch song. The original is a victory song and rather warlike.
The skirt I’m wearing below is here:
http://www.simplyzeena.com/collections/sale/products/checked-skirt-1
Your wife might like it for the holidays.
The workmanship is lovely and it’s lined.
Damn. I bought it at $28.
I decided to wear my brown Ariats with it.
We rode hobby horses.
Later, I bought this blouse to wear with the skirt. Or leggings, or jeans (and my Ariats):
http://www.simplyzeena.com/collections/shirts/products/bow-dress-1
I could have saved $8, dammit!
How about this one:
http://youtu.be/RqBG7Fyq7yA
Is that the same composer who did “O, Come All Ye Faithful”?
The bartendress at the Saloon Under-the-Hill left Chicago when she was about seven. She remembers things — like the museums and how cold the lake is.
Beth, and she wouldn’t let me take a picture. Doesn’t like pictures of herself.
My husband always said that we could rise and descend to any occasion.
What the hell?
I sat at table with Lisa’s youngest son, Ashton. He is 19. He goes to Trinity College in San Antonio.
I thought seriously about Trinity, but decided on Reed, because I wanted to do something different. He has a friend who goes to Trinity, but thought seriously about Reed.
The joke’s on me, boys.
R.E.M.
Good Lord, I’m 55.
Are we elitist or what?
Get over it. I need someone around who’s not gobsmacked.
Honestly, you were told and here we are. You have a problem with that?
Do I need white boots, Mr. Dave? I’m just not fond of white shoes.
Kinda interestin’, innit?
Tomorrow I’m having lunch with Napoleon and Catherine the Great.
Conversation should be lively.
What’s the matter , sweet boy?
You’re Catholics aren’t you?
Yeah, that’s what I said, too.
I have Dr. Webber’s card right here. He graduated from Vanderbilt.
Witness.
I have an amusing story about that. In preparation for our marriage my wife-to-be and I had an appointment with her parish priest as part of our “Pre-Cana Counseling”, as they call it. The priest asked “Well, Dave, is your family Catholic?” to which I answered “I only know for certain back to the 11th century when they built the village church. Before then I’m not really sure.”
Funny sort of Annunciation, isn’t it?
God can be a joker.
I’ve studied theology for years. My first good lover had a near Ph.D. in Divinity from Harvard. I was 21.
He left school for Selma.
He had some problems with Greek. But, it clicked one day. He could speak five languages, including Aramaic.
Part of the regular program in my very excellent high school, a Jesuit school, was to take the same curriculum, using the same texts, as was required for the theology major at the associated Jesuit university. Kids who were in the honors program at the high school entered university as juniors. If they went on to take an additional year of theology once at university, they’d graduate with a masters degree in theology.
I didn’t elect to do that of course but in the past many had.
Latin and Greek were required subjects at my high school. A modern foreign language was also required.
Lordy, I done found out I’m a Pentecostal. Holy Rollin’!
Talk about ignition.
And that’s the way it is. Over to you, Mr. Schuler.
If there’s one thing I’ve figured out in my time, it’s that you don’t argue with Jesuits.
Loyola ring a bell?
Going to a Jesuit high school in my day was like going to a Marine boot camp. Both the mind and body were reprogrammed.
My boy was prepared to go to West Point as an engineer. He had the math skills, the physique, but only had good sight from one eye. He was refused.
Of course, as an LT it was likely he would have had his ass shot out from under him. I suppose I should should call myself lucky because of the girl with a chinaberry in a slingshot.
Yeah, we all Harper Lee down heah.
Onward Christian soldiers.
May you and your wife live under the penumbra of God’s love.
Chosen ones. Kinda sucks, don’t it?
We talkin’ the new Bethlehem. The guest rooms are ready.
Daddy (went by Lee) always said the Jews should have located in Arizona.
Ken Layne said they should go to the Baja Peninsula.
Y’all speechless? I do understand.
God’s will and all that.
“Our father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name,
Thy kingdom come….”
You don’t remember?
I was staggered, and fought to the best of my might, but it’s true. I’m carrying your Christ.
Your faith is justified. We like justice in this house.
He’s had a name for a while. It’s Stafford Cambion Gore. Stafford was Lyman’s mother’s maiden surname.
Cambion is the offspring of an incubus.
I think I’ll call him “Cam”, unless I’m upset.
So there. It’s out. Properly weird annunciation, isn’t it?
No, it’s not science fiction.
After I speak to Dr. Webber, I’ll be happy to give you all my notes.
Please be my business manager.
Have you any experience with astral planes?
I’ve been through about four. It’s ungodly. It’s scientific.
M’boy says I’ve been through 8 planes.
Thing fall into place, don’t they?
I need you and your wife, truly. THE DOGS ARE JUST A PLUS.
Beautiful, well-kept, winsome Rottweiler-Dane I met yesterday. He was Marsha’s son’s dog. What a family.
He weighs more than I do. And eats more.
@Dave Schuler
I ran across something that may interest you. It looks interesting, but I do not have time to get up to speed on linguistics. I am posting it here because it is OT.
English is a Scandinavian language?
Yes, that’s interesting. I wonder how you’d disaggregate the role of North Scandinavian languages on English via Anglo-Danish from the Norse influences on Norman? I think it all supports my view that the old tree metaphor for language development is inadequate and a more complex network model should be adopted.
I thought you would understand it, but this is far beyond me. My knowledge is probably out-of-date, and it may never have been correct. There is a link between the Germanic or Frankish or one of the Goths and India. Language was evidence of the link. I recall Indus and Aryan were somehow involved.
My first thought was about dinosaur displays being wrong. The shoulder bone is actually the hip bone.