Thanksgiving on the Edge

Its early as you get this.

Real early. Sun's not up yet.

Yeah, I know, its been awhile since I've published a blog. Here's the thing, I think blogs are fading in popularity, especially ones written by old men that roll on for pages and chapters and OH MY GOD WOULD YOU SHUT UP ALREADY!!!. I think people want the Facebook, hit and get out-type of writing. Not a lot of people clicked over from FB to the blog because they knew I would droll on for hours and hours. Even the Russian Chancellor stopped reading. At least that's who he said he was when I met him under the Seventh Avenue bridge. Well, they're right.

Bastards.

But it is Thanksgiving.

And according to the press, the Mayans, that Italian guy they named the Fighting Irish team's college after, and the palm reader down the street, this could be it. The Big Wave, no more Mr. Happy Britches.

Oh well.

Its funny how you don't really appreciate life and its stuff until its threatened. Sometimes there isn't enough church, god, bandages of the heart, to keep us  from crying at Starbucks commercials. Sometimes, no one knew the wounding of our hearts unless we told them-except the dogs. They knew. They know everything, as only dogs can.

So, we come to this celebration that started in about 1622. Those poor bastards that survived the first winter after they arrived here in October due to poor timing, on a narrow beach south of what is now Boston. Half of them died and when the other half came out of their homes for spring, well. life didn't get any easier. Not sure who the lucky ones were that first winter. The living or the dead.

Yeah, I know and hear you. 'Mark, come on, all life is precious.' Not sure if I agree with that. Not sure I would want to live if my family just starved to death around me, or if I had a disease that was like being rolled up in carpet and left in the desert, or my mind wandered off and followed the sound of tom-toms to a dance no one else knew about. In my mind, sometimes, I have limits to this life. Not sure I'm willing to step too far over that final line.

But, not this year. Nope, I want to stick around, at least until we find out about the Mayans on December 20th. I was talking to a friend about if this is the one bet no one can make in Vegas. If you win and bet those little people hundreds of years ago were correct, who would pay you? Hmm? If you bet against the Mayans, well again, that's a dumb bet.

Being thankful for what we have is really up to us. Americans are unique in this celebration. We really are. Other countries probably have something similar, but not like us. We actually take a moment, once you push aside the ads and sales for everything from shampoo to Hyundai's and we really take a collective minute and say 'thanks.' Some of us thank a god of our choosing, some a human, some a combo pack of the two. Many of us, a true sizable number, struggle with identifying anyone to thank. They look around at their lives and don't think its worth it. So, I will just paraphrase one of my students who literally ran from one end of Africa to the other, chased by people who didn' like him for a list of reasons. Luckily, they were crap at shooting. My student said people just don't know, it can always be worse, we have it so good here. But in each case, it is a collective evaluation of what we have and what we might not have had if it hadn't been for that recipient of our thankfulness. Sometime today, amid all the business of who is picking up Aunt Mildred with the little goat whiskers from the airport, stop and tell the one who really deserves it---thanks.

So, we prep for hours, sometimes days, aiming for about a quarter of an hour of actual eating. If we prep right, clean up will be less than two hours. Kind of like flying a combat mission over Baghdad. Hours of prep before, minutes of shear terror, and hours to return to base and some form of normalcy.

Days ago, I started. I want to go back to the old days of Thanksgiving. You know, cranberry jelly from a can, stuffing from inside the bird, sherry in the stuffing prep, not necessarily in the recipe. Things like that. The glass at the top? That is a fine single malt. It is being activated this morning. Listen, we have to refrigerate mayo, we can't cook stuffing in the turkey anymore for fear we might get a little gastric distress, we can't have any hormones or defoliants or any of those quality items we all grew up with in our Thanksgiving meal, what else are they going to take away from us?? Hmm!! Are we turning into the Italian army? Are we getting so careful that we take the carnival fun out of the meal? Will we or won't we....?

By my math, in order to get the tribe eating at a particular time, I need to have feet on the deck at five in the morning--this morning. Most of you are still asleep. That gives me time for some coffee, maybe the paper, but not much else.

I think my ancestors would want me to call out the good stuff and color the glass above. To fortify my girded loins-ya know? My ancestors would want this to be how its done. That's how they would do it.Who in the Yankee bull pen is it going to be? Last night, we called out the great starter, Glenlevit 12 year old, can't go wrong with that. The dead ones are smiling. Toasting me with an even better single malt.

So, Thanksgiving 2012, as you might read this, hopefully, you will like what you read. Some might stop after looking at the length of the blog and go back and watch the morning news. For some of us, we will be working the sauces and flipping the switches.Know that we've been up working it for a while.   The dogs will be back from their walk and fed, finding a place in the warmth of the kitchen while the master works to the background of Hornsby and  Joe Cocker maybe even a little Frank Sinatra.

No warm mayo or stuffing in the main course, unless I find a recipe for it quick.  Over three hundred years ago, some survivors of a voyage found a wide spot in the field, shot some ugly birds, cooked for some friends, and some natives from the 'hood. The only thing missing----------is the single malt. Raise yer glass, er, mug, apple juice, orange juice, juice box! A toast! Thank you for riding this rock with us!!

To you and your family!!