Oh Deer!

We interrupt the silence to pose a few questions.

1) What in heaven's name are you doing in the back yard?

 2) Don't you know the good acorns are up on the hill just a few yards from the tree stand?

3) Where is your mother?

4) Do you by any chance know where your father likes to hang out? 

Thanksgiving Turkey

"Catching the Turkey" Grandma Moses 1940

More in the "Catching the Turkey" series here. 

Though I know little about Grandma Moses, primitivism, or art, I am a fan of Anna Mary Robertson, and enjoy looking at her work.

"A Blizzard" 1956

A lot can happen

I thought it might be a hoot to spend some time reading about the years leading up to the first Thanksgiving from the perspective of folks on the other side of the pond, so I pulled a few crappy old English history books off the shelves.

From pages 137-8 of A Manual of English History by Edward M. Lancaster (American Book Company, New York) comes this about Utopia:

Thomas More-- From the prophetic pen of More appeared a work entitled "Utopia," or Nowhere, a satire on the times, especially the reign of Henry VII. Utopia was an ideal commonwealth which an imaginary companion of Amerigo Vespucci, deserted on the American continent, found somewhere in the midst of the wilds. It had wide and clean streets, comfortable houses, a system of public schools in which every child received a good education, perfect religious toleration, and universal suffrage, though with a family, and not an individual ballot; and the sole object of government was the good of the whole people, and not the pleasure of the king. Had More's pseudo-voyager but wandered to the American continent a few centuries later, he would have found his model "Utopia" a real as well as an ideal republic.

(My emphasis)

Utopia was first published in Latin in 1516. It was first translated into English in 1551, about 20 years after the start of the Reformation in England-- and More's execution in 1535-- and 70 years before the Pilgrims landed. The text from which that passage comes was first published in 1905.

A lot can happen in a few centuries can't it?

A Spark!

There is not a scintilla of evidence supporting [Miss M's] "so-called" correct pronunciation of "wool."

--A. Leland

Whatever.

She didn't even have a scintilla of remorse for scarfing down the last scraps of the leftover ribs.

--Miss M

Oh. I get it. Miss M read her sentence and I was like, "What? Missy didn't get any ribs last night." Now I get it.

It wasn't the ribs she was scarfing down. It was the rib juice/marinade at the bottom of the foil-lined pan in which last night's ribs baked. 

By way of explanation, Missy has a bad habit of waiting in the kitchen's shadows for the kitchen to become vacant. That's when she puts her paws up on the counters. Usually, when I approach the kitchen, she scurries like a little rat and through habit gets in her box. Today, I walked in on her licking the foil. It wasn't until I was right next to her that she realized she'd been caught red-tongued with her nose in the pan. 

That's the story to which Miss M's sentence refers. 

You'd think she'd learn-- Missy, that is. Maybe she has. She must be doing some doggy utility cost-benefit analysis. "Get in my box? That's the punishment? I love my box! Here's my calculation: I snag a few morsels, 'get in my box' and relish the taste. I especially like it when you draw the blinds over my box... it's so warm and dark and... . You have no idea how good my box smells to me! "

Dang. Maybe I should get a stick.

"Flue" and "flume" differ only by a scintilla.

--Mr. Big Food

Inside, family joke. 

Despite years of personal, political, and religious oppression, a scintilla of human dignity remained in the Pilgrims-- a spark that could only be kindled in the New World.

--Marica

Thanksgiving Redemption

You may recall, I have a book about Thanksgiving:

Thanksgiving: Its Origin, Celebration and Significance as Related in Prose and Verse. Robert Haven Schauffler, ed. Dodd, Mead and Company, New York. 1953. [published originally in 1907]

Yesterday afternoon, after I propped open the front door to let some warm fresh air in, I finally got around to skimming the remaining pages and am pleased to announce, that after a rough start, this crappy old book does contain some interesting passages.

Here's the first I bookmarked:

  And the classic

Try This

From an article at PJMedia about yesterday's retail sales:

Some municipalities may ban Thanksgiving shopping next year. But that will only disadvantage businesses in their area. The only problem is that now, we have to come up with a clever name for the shopping day before Black Friday.

How about Thanksgiving?

Happy Thanksgiving!

I didn't even look at that crappy old Thanksgiving today. And I took very few pictures.

Around 11:30 Miss M called our attention to the tree with the buzzards.

There were a lot of them.

You may recall Nick got a deer last evening.

Meanwhile, there's some cooking and baking going on. The two pies were delicious. We did those early. They sat on the counter all day. Harvest artwork. One of the pies was pumpkin with homegrown pumpkin. At the end of the evening, while we were enjoying our pie in front of the television and the fire, the consensus was that homegrown pumpkin is better than canned.

And Mr. Big Food had gotten the turkey on the smoker with apple wood. Later, after about two hours of smoking, he'll bring it inside, let it cool, put it in a turkey cooking bag with some apple cider and put it in the oven for several hours.

Miss M went on a nature walk and took my camera.

The Lake. There's still some expensive tackle out there.

Ducks on the Lake.

There's supposed to be a blue heron in there somewhere, I think.

Here it is in flight.

This Thanksgiving was small. There were only six of us and four of us live here. But we did a good job of putting on the dog.

A. Leland volunteered his Winter Tea and so got put in charge of appetizers-- stuff we could drink and nibble on in the afternoon before dinner.

He did a fine job!

WE INTERRUPT THIS POST. ROCKY IS ALERT AND MUMBLING. NOW HE'S BARKING.

And so we go survey the house. Vicious Pit Bull. He's doing his job, earning his keep.

Anyway...  clockwise beginning with the orange crackpot holding A. Leland's famed Winter Tea-- a concoction of rum, triple sec, apple cinnamon tea, and a boatload of fruit; some little redhot wieners in a silver chafing dish; let's call it an ante-pesto tray-- peppers, pickles, tomatoes sprinkled with dried basil from last Spring; crackers, some vegan; a meat & cheese tray.

Here it is from another angle. It was by design that we put this table over by the fireplace. Stay out of the kitchen. It's Thanksgiving. We're cooking.

What I forgot to take a picture of was the coffee table laid out with the appetizer glass ware. So I have these crappy old rectangular glass plates. Picked most of them up at a flea market on Hwy 60 in WV. They have little punch typey cups that fit in a carved out space at one end. There's a similarly square-shaped carved out space beneath cup space. The entire plate is beaded all the way around. Except for the space I just described. It has a divot where a bead should be.

What is the purpose of this space?

If you guessed "ashtray," you guessed right!

And, as a bonus, the little punch typey cups were perfect for the Winter Tea.

Mike brought a delightful sweet potato dish. Mike has a nice way of bringing exotic food down to earth.

Greg brought us a very nice end to our day.

We feasted on turkey, mashed potatoes (not my best), gravy, stuffing (vegan), cranberries (which stained by Christmas serving bowl),  green beans, and I am proud to announce, a fresh green salad with butter crunch and red leaf lettuce and broccoli raab. Picked  today.

The table wasn't my best. I liked last night's table better.

But the food was good. I especially liked the pie.

Tomorrow, as is our Tradition, we will have Turkey Gumbo.

I hear tell there may be a shrimp or two thrown into the pot.

Happy Thanksgiving, all y'all.

I Have a Book About Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving: Its Origin, Celebration and Significance as Related in Prose and Verse. Robert Haven Schauffler, ed. Dodd, Mead and Company, New York. 1953.

I'm on page 23-- after a lengthy 12 1/2 page Introduction-- and I'm disappointed. But I'll keep reading and see what I can find to share. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, I've been thinking about what it might have been like to be the sort of person who felt so strongly about something that you were willing to do what the first colonizers did. 

Meanwhile, ...

Do not click to read more if you do not want to see a picture of a dead animal.

Let me be perfectly clear

I will make it a point to talk about guns.

What with neither Mr. Big Food nor Miss M having to go to Starkvegas today, and our having finished up all of our shopping for tomorrow's feast, our Thanksgiving weekend has begun. So let me take a few minutes to get some things on & off the table right now so we can all enjoy the remainder of our weekend.

1) We will be talking about guns this weekend. We may even shoot some guns.

2) As I was explaining to Missy yesterday, Thanksgiving is an American holiday-- more than just a harvest feast we also remember the Pilgrims, Puritans and other souls who left the warm and comfy Old World to come to the New, where they had a greater measure of freedom. Unless your ideological bent is toward individual freedom and liberty and away from being told what to do, think, eat, etc., you can say whatever the heck you want but be prepared to meet with devastating resistance from those of us who value individual freedom, etc. 

3) You loose points if you use the term "Black Friday." In all of the English language, this is a phrase I abhor the most. Shopping for Christmas gifts for loved ones should-- yes, should-- be a warm, pleasurable experience. It is not a contact sport. Calling the day after Thanksgiving "Black Friday" is crass and I don't like it. 

4) The salad fork is the shorter of the two. 

Good. Now, let's enjoy the weekend!

What's All the Excitment?

"Marica?"

"Yes, Missy?"

"Are you busy?"

"Why, no. Not really. I'm just diddling around the World Wide Web. What's up?"

"I'm sensing a bit of excitement in the air. It portends of the unusual. Pray, is something different about to happen here at the Farm."

"Ruff?"

"How perceptive of you, Missy!"

"Ruff ruff! Ruff?"

"You, too, Rocky. And yes, Daughter C will be gone for a few days. She's off to visit Mr. Bow Tie."

"Ah. Mr. Bow Tie. Such a pleasant fellow."

"RUFF!?"

"Because she's flying on an aeroplane and it's difficult for dogs to fly on aeroplanes."

"ruff."

"Pardon me, but we seem to be getting off topic. Is something about to happen?"

"Indeed it is! Thanksgiving is coming up."

"Ruff?"

" 'Thanks giving.' Excuse my ignorance, but that is something less than satisfying as an answer. What, pray tell, is 'thanks giving?' "

"Thanksgiving is an American holiday. You remember that we're Americans, right?"

"RUFF."

"Of course! I'm proud to be an American dog. 'All-American,' I might add, given my Newfoundlandian and German heritage."

"Ruff. Ruff."

"Good for you, Rocky! Stafordshire Terriers do have British ancestry. Anyway-- Thanksgiving is an American holiday on which we-- as a country, as families, and as individuals-- take time to reflect on what we are thankful for."

"Hum. Don't we do that everyday, Marica? I hear you tell Mr. Big Food you're thankful we all live together here on the Farm at least two or three time a week."

"Ruff? Ruff ruff ruff."

"Yeah, I do. And Rocky, I know you give thanks every night before you lay your little head down on the pillow that Daughter C rescued you from being chained to a tree. But this is a day where everyone gives thanks."

"Ah. An institutionalized holiday."

"Riiight. We also remember those folks who first came to America from the Old World."

"Ruff?"

"Excuse me! 'Old World?' There was a world before this one?!? I recall no mention of this on The Big Bang Theory! Old World! Is a TARDIS involved? My head is spinning!!"

"Oh, Missy. Don't take things so literally. The old world refers to Great Britain and the Continent, as opposed to America which, at the time of its discovery and colonization, was referred to as the New World."

"Ruff."

"Oh. Please. You did not know that. Stop acting so smug. Now, Marica. I have several more questions but I wonder if you might retrieve for me a map of these Old and New Worlds, as my questions are predicated on understanding this distinction."

"Ruff ruff ruff!!"

"Stop laughing. I know I am the retriever. But it's Marica's library-- she would know better than I where the appropriate map is located."

"You have to admit, that was pretty funny! I'll go retrieve you a map, Missy."

"Ruff ruff ruff!!"

"Thank you ever so much, Marica."

"Ruff!"

"Really? Ruff ruff!!"

"Most helpful. Thank you very much!"

Stanely Miles

It's funny the connections we humans make when we live a Big Life filled with family & friends  & books & The World-Wide-Web, isn't it? 

I noted a few things that happened this week in history and here's what Daughter C had to say in the comments:

This is what I've been trying to think of:

Linus van Pelt: In the year 1621, the Pilgrims held their first Thanksgiving feast. They invited the great Indian chief Massasoit, who brought ninety of his brave Indians and a great abundance of food. Governor William Bradford and Captain Miles Standish were honored guests. Elder William Brewster, who was a minister, said a prayer that went something like this: "We thank God for our homes and our food and our safety in a new land. We thank God for the opportunity to create a new world for freedom and justice."

Patricia 'Peppermint Patty' Reichardt: Amen.

Sally Brown: Do you know what we have to do? We have to write an essay on Stanley Miles.

Charlie Brown: You mean Miles Standish.

Sally Brown: I can't keep track of all those names.

Planning, Co-operation, and Thanks

Sauce for pre-assembled vegan green bean casserole

and a couple of pies were planned for Wednesday.

There were seven of us. Before Daughter C and Co. came out Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Big Food and Miss M. did some prep cooking. After they arrived, we put away the fruits of their labors-- Ula's homemade breads, Bruno's sweet potato casserole, piles of veggies for nibblies, wine, wine and more wine... . What am I missing? Oh, yes! All of the ingredients for a third corn bread dressing, courtesy of Mr. Bow Tie. 

On the day itself, there was a tremendous amount of co-operation

before

and after dinner.

It was such a beautiful late afternoon that on the spur of the moment we decided to eat outside!

The Art of the Skillet Lunch

I've learned to put the cranberries between dressings so as to avoid pink mashed potatoes.

It will take about 30 minutes for everything to heat up. Meanwhile, on a nearby burner

the turkey carcass is simmering away.

It will simmer for about eight hours, be refrigerated over night and then be skimmed and then there will be a roux and then The Bartman will come over and then there will be shooting and then ... and then ... there will be TURKEY GUMBO!

And just exactly what would you expect

when you start calling the day after Thanksgiving "Black Friday?"

via Drudge which (who?) I know deals in hyperbole, but still.

By the way, the man who was punched in the face by a rabid line-cutting shopper had a Texas concealed carry permit and will not be charged.

New-comers

As you know, the Pilgrims arrived in December 1620,

and I doubt they really looked like this. (Courier and Ives)

To say the least, they struggled. In all seriousness, it is fascinating to read Bradford's account of their fist few years. As it turns out, there were deceitful men on both sides of the Atlantic back in those crappy old days, too.  You've got to give the Pilgrims a lot of credit and admiration. They persevered.

Here's what Bradford says about the response of the Original Settlers in 1623 to another boat load of folks from the Old World who hadn't brought provisions for the colonists.

Now the original settlers were afraid that their corn, when it was ripe, would have to be shared with the new-comers, and that the provisions which the latter had brought over with them would give out before the year was over-- which indeed they did. So they went to the Governor and begged him that as it had been agreed that they should sow their own corn for their own use, and accordingly they had taken great pains about it, they might be left to enjoy it. They would rather do that than have a bit of the food just come in the ship.  They would wait till harvest for their own and let the newcomers enjoy what they brought; they would have none of it except by bargain or exchange. Their request was granted them and it satisfied both sides; for the new-comers were much afraid the hungry settlers would eat up the provisions they had brought, and then they would fall into like conditions of want.

William Bradford in Of Plymouth Colony, Chapter IV: 1623. [my emphasis]

(From A Modern English Version with an Introduction, George F. Willison, Walter J. Black, Inc., 1948)

Here's what he had to say about Harvest Time.

1623

... Harvest time had come now, and then instead of famine, God gave them plenty, and the face of things was changed, to the rejoicing of the hearts of many for which they blessed God. And the effect of their particular planting was well seen, for all had, one way or another, pretty well to bring the year about, and some of the abler and more industrious had to spare, and sell to others-- in fact, no general want of famine has been among them since, to this day.

William Bradford in Of Plymouth Colony, Chapter IV: 1623. [my emphasis]

(From A Modern English Version with an Introduction, George F. Willison, Walter J. Black, Inc., 1948)

Well, what do you know?!

A couple of years ago, I read somewhere that the history of the First Thanksgiving was not at all what the story of the First Thanksgiving is. The argument for this claim came from someone's reading of William Bradford's history of Plymouth. Naturally, I wanted to read passages from his crappy old book myself, so I spent some time this week tracking down internet versions of The History of Plymouth Colony. I found bewtieful original texts and modern English versions.

The problem is, I'm not keen on reading books on a computer screen. I'd about decided to not bother.
~~

You may recall our recent guest from Italy-- here on your dime, by the way-- forgot to make his bed. I called housekeeping and then got distracted. I realized just today housekeeping had not come! So I took the dogs out to the bunkhouse and got to work stripping the bed and picking up the blanket that our guest left on the floor between the bed and a bookshelf.

Beautiful!

1948

UPDATE: I should take inventory.

Black Friday Thoughts: Cyber Monday Edition

J.C. Penney, Lines of a Layman, 1956

To be clear, much as I like Mr. Penney, and much as I admire the company he founded, I am no fan of JCPenney these days. JCPenney, circa 2011, is the antithesis of 

That first little store I called "The Golden Rule."*

I've claimed that Mr. Penney would not approve of "Black Friday." By that I mean both the term, and the practices thereof. How do I know this?

p.74

Do these words sound like they've been written by a man who would ask thousands of his associates to be at work at 3am on the day after Thanksgiving? I think not.

~~

*Do not get me started on that other retail empire begun by a liar, thief and former JCPenney associate, Sam Walton.

Dis-qualified Entrant: Gumbo

As you know, we are having a Fall/Winter Soup Contest. We are making up the rules as we go along.

Gumbo is soup. It is Fall.

Dis-qualified

I mulled over this all afternoon, and right before we were ready to serve the gumbo, I asked Mr. Big Food what his thoughts were on allowing the obvious winner-- because we are so familiar with it, because we have it in other seasons-- into the Contest. He disallowed it. Because we have turkey and duck and goose gumbo in all seasons. So Gumbo is not, strictly speaking, a "Fall/Winter" soup, even though it is our tradition to have Turkey Gumbo on Black Friday.

We make these rules up as we eat.

~~

Rocky is due to arrive back at The Farm later this evening. I am perfectly blase (insert squiggly line over "e") about the whole thing.

"Black Friday" Thoughts: Pt. 2

America Has Been Good To Me

J.C. Penney, Lines of a Layman, 1956

Today I remember that the years have rewarded me for every talent I possess, and for every effort I've ever made-- amply rewarded me not only with the world's material goods, but richly rewarded me in many, many fine friendships-- rewarded me too with an almost endless series of deep and gratifying experiences.

This is no casual thought. I have often pondered it. I write of this now not merely because America has been good to me. It's often difficult for us in the United States to see this. Most of us were born in this country; we grew up here. Without giving it any particular thought we accept our country and the vast wealth, the many advantages, and the countless opportunities which it so lavishly bestows upon us. We take America for granted.

But while this may be quite natural--and is certainly understandable-- it's also dangerous. "Those to whom much is given, from them shall much be required." This ancient precept is as true for us today as it was for those to whom it was originally addressed two thousand years ago. Sometimes we forget that those stern old statements so cardinal in the faith of our fathers are true, not because they are written in the Scriptures, but rather they are written in the Scriptures because they're true. [Emphasis in original]

~~

From PJM's Tatler; Maybe if he had applied himself when his country was providing him with free education, he'd know that the "?" is not the proper punctuation for this assertion.

~~

Mr. Big Food has asked me repeatedly when "they" started calling the Friday after Thanksgiving "Black Friday." I had no answer. We used to call the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving "Two Big Days," and when stores began opening on Sundays, "Three Big Days." Even the sales circulars and signage were labeled "Three Big Days!!"

Curiosity got the better of me so I consulted that infallible source, Wikipedia, to learn that the term originated in Philadelphia in 1966. 

The term's spread was gradual, however, and in 1985 the Philadelphia Inquirer reported that retailers in Cincinnati and Los Angeles were still unaware of the term.

(No surprise there. Cincinnati isn't exactly up-to-the-minute on these sorts of things.)

I don't think I heard the phrase until the early- to mid-2000s. I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now. I doubt that Mr. Penney would like it. I am certain my dad would not.

Unlike, I'll bet, Mr. Protester, Mr. Penney has been rewarded with "an almost endless series of deep and gratifying experiences." I cannot fathom how participation in Black Friday qualifies as a deep and gratifying experience. But then again, I cannot fathom asking, "What can my country do for me?" 

~~
More Black Friday thoughts here.