All This and Eel Pies

 

     Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

    It’s the first of the year-end celebrations, the others being Christmas, Hanukkah, and New Years.  And, by New Years, I mean New Years Eve.  January 1st is really only meant for watching college football and making resolutions to not act like a jackass at the next New Years Eve party.

Provided you even get invited back.
NOTE:  For entertainment use only.  I am not a woman.

     You could make the case that Veterans Day kicks it off.  But, as evidenced by the dismal ratings of the short-lived It’s the War to End All Wars, Charlie Brown special, the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month just doesn’t make for a merry start of the holiday season.

    So, it’s really the 4th Thursday of November which gets the festivities rolling (hey, it’s easier than trying to figure out when the frik Easter is).

    Incidentally, some folks have already jumped the gun and started decorating for Christmas.

We call them "crazy people."

 

    I said what I said.

    After all, what evokes the holiday spirit more than getting trampled at Wal-Mart by frenzied harpies in bathrobes and curlers on Black Friday?

"Friday of Color."

    As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate how special Thanksgiving is.  A more sober occasion than the frenetic zaniness of the Yuletide season (crazy people notwithstanding), at Thanksgiving we gather just to be together, not because we hope to score the latest electronic gizmo.

    Oh, sure, even though there are parades, football games, and enough food to sink the Mayflower, Thanksgiving is thankfully (pardon the pun) devoid of the commercialism of Christmas and the bacchanalian excess of New Year’s Eve.

    Of course, if you don't feel like watching football, the Dallas Cowboys are on.

"Gentlemen, may I present...the end zone!"
"What's that?"

    Gratefully, we aren’t bombarded by wall-to-wall advertisements to get our loved ones (or our families) the very latest in techno wizardry (“Because, if you REALLY loved Mom, you’d buy her a Kindle Fire!”) in the run-up to Thanksgiving.  Plus, there’s no such thing as a “24-Hour Thanksgiving Music Station” or a “Randolph the Hair-Lipped Turkey” special on the Hallmark channel.

But there is the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving special,
which I always found a little disturbing. 
Can't exactly put my finger on why, though.

THAT'S IT!!!!

    No, it’s a calming prelude to the mania which paralyzes every December.  It’s a time to appreciate what we’ve been given.

    As the day draws nearer, I think back to that very first day of thanks held almost four hundred years ago...

    The brightly colored leaves swirling madly amongst the trees, a chill autumn wind blowing briskly over freshly-harvested fields, and the forest animals bustling crazily about in preparation for winter.

    And nobody fighting over the remote.

    So it was in 1621 that Governor Bradford of Plymouth Colony thought it was high time to celebrate a day of thanksgiving.

    Frantically scurrying to find a suitable venue at which to hold their celebration, the Pilgrim Fathers were disappointed to learn they were too late; all the good days in October and early November had been reserved months ago for the Pequot/Schwartz wedding reception, the Jamestown “We Were First” Commemoration, and the last of the Mohican family reunions.

Thankfully, it didn't get out of hand like in 1620
 after someone invited the white guy.

    Luckily, a spot opened up the last Thursday of November when “Mohawks On Ice!” was forced to close after some Hurons packed their loincloths with Icy Hot.  So, the Native Europeans invited their friends, the Native Americans, to a grand feast at the local Elks Lodge picnic pavilion.

Featuring real elk

     A deeply devout people, the Pilgrims wished to thank the “Godless heathen savages” for all their help getting the colony on its feet.  After all, the tribe was essential to gaining a foothold in the New World, long before the Trail of Tears, Wounded Knee, and all-you-can-eat casino buffets. 

    Imagine what would have happened had Squanto not taught the Pilgrims to plant dead fish with their corn (“Behold, I bring you the gift of maize!  As long as you don’t mind the smell of dead fish.”). 

    Prior to that, they just stuck them in their trousers.

    Plus, the tribe brought the eel pies.

"Seriously, Runs With Scissors, you couldn't have brought something normal? 
Like an apple cobbler?"

    Many customs today hearken back to this coming together: the feast, the fellowship, the two-hand touch lacrosse game after supper, and the men falling asleep in front of the fire with their hands down their breeches while the women cleaned up all laid the foundation of our nation.

    NOTE:  By our nation, I mean the United States.  Canada, you have your own Thanksgiving in October.  England, you coulda had a piece of this, but noooooooooo.

    Happily, it was the giving of thanks which has endured through peace, war, and disco.  No doubt Governor Bradford himself began a tradition which survives to this day:  putting relatives on the spot to state that for which they were thankful.

    In homes across the nation, this scene will be played out anew during halftime.  In the true spirit of the holiday, millions of family members will likewise be grilled.

"I'm thankful for Matt Gaetz."
"Booooooooooooooo!!!!!!!"
"And Trump."
"Get out."

    This year, though, in addition to joyful thanks for family, friends, and the feelings of warmth which come from both, one will resonate above all:

    That Great-Aunt Mildred was able to buy the last bundt cake from that guy in the back of his van at the Stop N Shop.

    Because the alternative was the Eel Pies.

    And I don’t care how much Cool Whip you put on them, they’re still eels.

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY, EVERYONE!

 

 

A Little Bit of Learning

 The following is just what I remember from being a nerd who read a lot when he was a teenager because he was too shy to date girls.  Little did this bashful teenager know that he would go on to marry three women who shared outrageously low standards in men.

Which always seemed odd to me
as I considered myself a bit of a hottie.

    Steven Grover Cleveland was born on March 18, 1837 in the town of Caldwell, New Jersey, near the New Jersey Turnpike.  His parents preferred to call him "Grover," because they could not agree on whether to spell his first name "Stephen" or "Steven."

NOTE:  This may not be true.

Of course, they may have thought differently
had they been able to see into the future.

NOTE:  This, too, is wild conjecture.

    After serving a term as President of the 1855 senior class at Caldwell High School (home of the unfortunately named 'Fighting Rebels'), young Grover developed a taste for politics.

NOTE:  Yeah, definitely not true.  Why do you keep bothering? 

"Unfortunate because of the coming Civil War."
"Ohhhhhhhhh,  Wanna go cow-tipping?"

    Grover went on to become Mayor of Buffalo.

NOTE:  Although true (surprise!), I don't remember how he went from New Jersey to New York.

    Later, he became Governor of New York.

NOTE:  Also true.  I'm on a roll!

    Finally, he secured the 1884 nomination of the Democratic Party for President and went on to defeat James Blaine.  By doing so, he became the first Democrat to win the presidency since James Buchanan.  

"I apparently set the standard for 'suck.' 
But, hey, I'm dead.  So up yours."

    Unfortunately (well, for him.  I don't care), Cleveland, despite winning the popular vote, lost the electoral vote and the presidency to Benjamin Harrison in 1888.

"Hmm...won the popular vote but lost the electoral vote. 
That sounds familiar."

      However, since Harrison achieved a Buchanan level of suck, Cleveland won the presidency back in 1892.

"Naw, it was the beard.  People hated the beard."

    Cleveland was noted for his views on self-reliance, integrity, commitment to classic liberalism, and fondness for the Daily Jumble in the Washington Post.

NOTE:  Okay, that last bit probably isn't true.  I seriously can't help myself.

    He was an anti-imperialist who was against the annexation of Hawaii because he was allergic to pineapples.

"Plus, I bet he would've hated tiny bubbles.  In da wine."

    He was a strong supporter of the gold standard, was against corruption, and gave his name to an Ohio city on Lake Erie.

NOTE:  Yeah, that definitely isn't true.

    However, the Panic of 1893 plunged the United States into a severe depression.  Whether rightly or wrongly (I can't remember), American voters determined that Democrats should never hold the reins of power again and gave the presidency of 1896 to the Republican, William McKinley.

  Thinking "Screw it," Cleveland left Washington.   

NOTE:  Actually, his health was deteriorating during his presidency.  Fighting cancer, he probably knew he was in no shape to run for office again (he actually could have-restrictions to a president serving more than two terms were many decades away).

    Grover Cleveland died of a heart attack in Princeton, New Jersey (a-ha!  Back to Jersey) in 1908.

Which would explain this on the Jersey Turnpike.

   You may be wondering why I chose to write about a relatively unremarkable president.

Although, compared to Chester Arthur, he was Abraham Lincoln.

    Well, Grover Cleveland was the only man in American history to have been elected to two non-consecutive terms as president.

    Until last week.

"And I approve of this message."

"Beard don't look so bad now, does it?"

The Eleventh Hour of the Eleventh Day of the Eleventh Month

 

     Happy Veterans Day!

    I know most of you are expecting my typical wise-guy approach (for those of who aren’t, what have you been reading?).  Most of the time I oblige because there’s a lot of the ludicrous in our lives (if you think I’m wrong, just remember:  Donald Trump's hair). 

    This one time, though, no wisecracks, no innuendos, no witty asides.  In a break from my usual “shtick,” I’m going to play it straight and briefly speak on the significance of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

    NOTE:  Okay, one wisecrack.  Aren’t “innuendos” Italian suppositories?

    On November 11th, 1918, the Germans surrendered to the Allied powers in the Forest of Compiegne, ending what was then known as the Great War.  Little did they know there would be a sequel nearly 21 years later.

    But that’s another story.

    The following November, noted scold and racist President Woodrow Wilson declared that “Armistice Day” would henceforth be observed in honor of those who had fallen during the “war to end all wars” (kinda dropped the ball with THAT one, didn’t we?).

    Following the Second World War (the “good” war, an oxymoron if I ever heard one), the town of Emporia, Kansas changed “Armistice” to “Veterans” Day.  The idea was to honor everyone who had served in the armed forces rather than only those who’d fought against the Kaiser.

    As the years went by, the idea of setting a special day aside for veterans took hold throughout the nation.  In 1954, Congress made the name change official while President Eisenhower called on all Americans to observe the day.  But, surprisingly, it took until 1971 for Richard Nixon to declare it a federal holiday.

    In the years since, it’s become little more than an excuse to hold blowout sales on everything from bed linen to used cars (“Buy this Chevy because Patton would have wanted you to.”).  Ceremonies marking the day have been lost in the madcap frenzy of pre-Christmas commercialism.  In fact, what was once a universal day off has turned into pretty much a “federal government employees only” respite.

    It’s like Columbus Day that way.

    I don’t have a problem with this, per se, if it was still recognized for the solemn event that it is.  After all, Veterans Day is much more than sleeping in late and watching Sponge Bob Squarepants in your pajamas while wolfing down a bowl of “Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs.”

    Unfortunately, many people don’t even know what Veterans Day is all about.  While at work on a November 11^th many years ago, I was flabbergasted when the morning announcements proclaimed Veterans Day merely as a “day to recognize older people who had a lot of experience.”

    What!?  Now, I don’t wish to denigrate Grandpa’s fly-fishing prowess and, boy howdy, ain’t it cool that Great-Aunt Tilly can knit a quilt with her feet, but c’mon!  Since when is bowling a perfect game the same as convoy duty in Afghanistan?  Quick answer-it’s not.

    As a result, I spent the balance of the day quizzing my coworkers on whether they knew what put the “veteran” in Veterans Day.  Sadly, I was depressed by their appalling lack of knowledge, as very few of them actually understood what all the fuss was about.  But, you can bet your bottom dollar they knew who the frontrunners were on “Dancing With the Stars.”

    Shocking as it was, I know they weren’t the only ones who had no clue that the 11th of November was different than any other day.  It goes without saying there’s a need to set a few things straight. 

    So, I call on all of us who know better to teach others about Veterans Day.  Urge those around you to take a moment to remember our veterans and those who are still in harm’s way.

    You don’t have to go to a flag-raising ceremony, attend a parade, or even buy one of those “Buddy Poppies” (although I do, because I enjoy talking to those guys).  You don’t have to agree on this war or that war and you certainly don’t have to watch The Sands of Iwo Jima at attention.

    If nothing else, reflect on the service of all those who have worn, and continue to wear, our nation’s uniform.  From Lexington to Kabul, they deserve our respect and our thanks.

    As a veteran myself, I salute them all.