A Revisit: What Is It With Thanksgiving?
Note: I originally wrote this article years ago on my old blog, but found it still timely. So, I dusted it off and expanded it some for the holiday.
It’s no longer a surprise that as soon as Halloween ends, with its own gala of ghoulish scares and costume delight, we then step into the realm of a holiday that seems to grow less in importance each year. Please don’t take this wrong — I personally love this autumnal celebration. As I grew past my teen years (centuries ago…), I gravitated away from the natural, kid-friendly time of Christmas as my favorite and toward Thanksgiving. Getting together on the fourth Thursday in November at my grandmother’s home with family members, stuffing my face with the traditional food (along with our own cultural fare), remains a very sweet memory.
Is it just me, or is the Thanksgiving holiday relatively ignored outside of family units these days? Save for the retailers, that is. Needless to say, that’s only due to what comes the day after, Black Friday. The few exceptions, maybe, would be The Food Channel and grocery stores, for obvious reasons. In recent years, Halloween has grown with retail store chains for the stuff (costumes, confections, and decorations) that can be marketed and sold to the masses. We need not mention the horror movies and disc releases scheduled for maximum sale potential. You barely get past Labor Day and the All Hallows Eve trimmings are already in the store aisles. I’m okay with that, but does it have to be at the cost of what follows just because there’s less merchandising to be had? Hmm…
A Happy Father’s Day to Music
Well, it’s Father’s Day here in the U.S., and I wish all of the dads out there a great day. Here’s hoping they get and dole out enough hugs in the amount worthy of the celebration. I thought the above cartoon was a perfect selection since Spike TV has shown the complete saga, both trilogies (from Phantom Menace to Return of the Jedi), all weekend for this occasion. Okay… it’s a guy thing. I promise I won’t get all sentimental. But, I do love being a pop… even if I do garner the Evil Bastard moniker from time-to-time with my kids.
Still, I have to say one of my most proudest achievements with my children is their love of music. Their beautiful faces and dispositions come by way of their mother, I merely gave them their tempers and stubbornness 
. She-who-must-be-obeyed did instill in our descendants an appreciation for the form, harmony and expression of emotion through sound, too. My contribution was they just got some of my taste in songs.
Case in point, this is my son’s specific request when he’s in the car with his old man and the iPod he brings everywhere:
My daughter, as well, never fails to get in the act. Both of my kids have their own distinct musical appetites that come nowhere close to mine, but they do like some of their father’s. My fierce one’s pick:
And if people are worried about me since my fall the other day (something I turned over in my anniversary post), here is an update by way of a 1964 song by my all-time favorite music group. Primarily written by John Lennon, the riff-driven song remains a long-time pick of mine that even my kids admire.
Released within days of each other in the U.S. and the U.K., I Feel Fine deployed what was initially a mistake* (audio feedback) on their part as a recording effect on the final song. The Beatles were the first to do so. As Wikipedia notes:
“Artists such as The Kinks and The Who had already used feedback live, but Lennon remained proud of the fact that the Beatles were the first group to actually put it on vinyl.”
* my kids tell me that they can pick up the swear word slip in the recording. What can I say? I’m a proud papa.
Reprise True Story: “What are we doing out here?”
[dictionary definition]
family|ˈfam(ə)lē|noun ( pl. -lies)
1 [treated as sing. or pl. ] a group consisting of parents and children living together in a household.
• a group of people related to one another by blood or marriage : friends and family can provide support.
Memory, like family, is a strange thing. Each have the same capacity for both good and bad. You can cherish and/or dread what comes out of the pair. The Memorial Day holiday* and my relatives hold a particularly special impression on me. Let’s set the table, as it were, first. Through no fault of my own, my mother’s herd raised me — who are just this side of sane (although, they have been known to stray into the land of crazy from time to time). However, I still consider myself lucky I was stuck via blood and marriage with these people. My father’s clan, as luck would have it, reminded me of a smaller version of the familia that brought the bounty upon Alfredo Garcia’s head. But, that’s for another tale…
This particular memory centers upon this weekend’s holiday. Bear with me on this. For decades (until recently), my mother’s family always had a Fourth of July picnic. Besides Christmas Eve, it was the other traditional family event. We’d all gather the immediate broods of my aunts (did I mention most of this crowd consisted of women?) and rendezvous the collection at some city park. All sort of food fare was at this event — and it was the perfect excuse for one of my uncles to bring that ages old hibachi out of his garage. Along with ice chests and coolers (of varying colors and age), all sorts of picnic wares, plastic utensils, and sports equipment met up at this affair. This also included (among this competitive lot) the buddies and boy- or girl-friends (current or the soon to be ex- variety) of my cousins invited to the gathering. Got all of that?
Generally, it was all pretty fun… except for the pulled muscles, sunburns, and the after-effects of overeating. Not to mention the incidents when so-in-so did whatchamacallit to you-know-who that caused one of my aunts to deploy the mommy voice due to all that. Believe me, that voice will bring anyone into line (think the Jedi Mind Trick, but totally real). And on occasion (if the Fourth didn’t produce any lasting scars), we’d do this all over again come Labor Day. In all my recollection, we never, ever, tried this kind of familial rally on Memorial Day… except once. Sometime in the 80′s, I (being the brilliant imagineer I thought I was) noted that particular anomaly and brought that fact up with the ruling matriarchal council that were my aunts. Two weeks before that holiday, I suggested we do a family picnic on that date. Almost in unison, each of them said that “But, we’d never done that before.” I challenged that idea by saying it was “… exactly why we should do it.” I’ve since envisioned that Custer must have used those same words prior to the Battle of the Little Bighorn. Being I found it hard to take ‘no‘ for answer (my children now exhibit that same karmic trait), I eventually wore my relatives down. They agreed to this, and thus my fate was sealed.
Image by BluFlowr via FlickrMost of us (the ones that felt obligated to follow through with this), gathered at Furman Park in Downey, California on the appointed date. And oh, it was a beautifully clear day, alright… the strong gusts assured that. I’ve since estimated that we actually had a wind chill that Memorial Day Monday. I had unwittingly selected one of the coldest, most blustery days of May in recorded L.A. history. At least, the group that journeyed to that fabled picnic came layered (those that chose to stay home, have since labeled themselves “the smart ones” in family lore). I distinctly remember there were two places at this cookout where people gathered: at the park’s heavy-duty picnic table (holding down the food containers and what not in the gale) and the area immediately around my uncle’s hibachi (the only warm place in the park). If I had a dollar that day for every time I heard, “What are we doing out here?“, I could have bought stock in North Face® clothing. After about two hours of eating some of the food we brought (and shivering… no one touched any of the cold drinks), everyone thought they’d had enough of the cold Memorial Day cheer, packed up and left.
Now, here is where memory comes in. Everyone on my mother’s side of the family remembers this… and whose idea this was. No one — ever — forgets it. Of those that are left, many of the older generation have since joined my mother at that great family reunion in the sky, it’s become an annual duty to remind me of that incident around the last Monday in May. This is that good and bad thing I spoke of earlier. For better or for worst, I’ve had to grow a thicker skin because of the repeated chiding this event spawned (another thing families are known for). Still, I’ve grown to enjoy and laugh at the ridiculousness of that day, and its remembrance. Needless to say, we’ve not had another family picnic on that holiday since. Really, you can’t make things like this up. At least, it’s nice to be known for something… I guess. I hope you all have a safe holiday.
* please remember Memorial Day commemorates the U.S. men and women who have died in military service on behalf of this country.
Technorati Tags: Memorial Day
A Friday the 13th Post (a reprise)
If you recall the old children’s nursery rhyme, Monday’s Child, you may or may not be aware that it’s gone through some changes since the 1800s (and likely, the rhyme is way older than that). Today’s prevailing version of this verse is as follows:
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace;
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go;
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for its living;
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.
However did you know, initially, it was Friday’s child that was full of woe in the rhyme? It was only later that Wednesday and Friday flip-flopped their day fortunes (the fate’s of Thursday and Saturday were also exchanged, but that takes us away from where I wish to go with the post). If you were born on a Wednesday, you have to feel a bit ripped off by this (BTW, if you don’t know what day of the week you were actually born on, you can find out here). Wikipedia reports that the original fortune-telling (by day of birth) for Friday likely reflected old traditional superstitions associated with back luck on Friday the 13th.
At least for me, that explains the reason for the title to one of the better original Star Trek series episodes. I wonder if my mother knew about this (its meaning, not the sci-fi TV show)? Or, what she would have felt toward it, since both of her surviving children were born on Friday? Hmm… As a kid, I recall her telling me that my father warned late in her pregnancy, in no uncertain terms on Thursday the 12th, that she better NOT have his child the very next day. I like to think that my mother took that admonition as a dare. As one would have expected, things didn’t work out for my dad/her husband and that talking-to. With 13 as my lucky number… and Friday being my favorite day of the week, I look at it as Mom winning that challenge.
Related articles
- Friday the 13th (greenskyoutside.wordpress.com)
- Friggatriskaidekaphobia! It’s Friday the 13th Tomorrow (self.com)
- Warning over Friday the 13th (autonetinsurance.co.uk)
Like this:
Reprise: Mr. & Mrs.
![Cover of "Mr & Mrs Smith [Blu-ray]"](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51wAbhz0AmL._SL300_.jpg)
Cover of Mr & Mrs Smith [Blu-ray]Last week Awhile back, I teed up Doug Liman‘s Mr. & Mrs. Smith for another viewing (this time, on Blu-ray Disc). It’s not a perfect movie, but then again, neither are we. Timing is everything, I guess. I don’t love this film because of the pyrotechnics and the over-the-top super-assassin skills on display from the pair of super-attractive leads, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. [okay, every now and then I do get a kick out of the variety of combat hardware on hand and that its being put to gorgeous use by a comely, long-haired brunette...] That’s not really the reason. I love it because of this:
John Smith: “Careful, Jane. I can push the button any time I like.”
Jane Smith: “Baby, you couldn’t find the button with both hands and a map.”
It is the facets of wedlock, and all the little things about marriage, that this story absolutely nails on the big screen. The milieu of marriage, as it’s been described by others. I bet you, whether the person is married or divorced… happy or miserable, a hitched person will spot that same detail with regard to this movie. I doubt the single person in the room will fully comprehend what they are seeing. Oh, they’ll get some of it. But, not the portion that is felt by those who have really lived in a state of matrimony. Those of us who are, or have been, married know living that part leaves an actual impression (as in, “That’s going to leave a mark.“). For the non-married (living together doesn’t count — think of it as false labor vs. real c-o-n-t-r-a-c-t-i-o-n-s), it is just not at their level of understanding. If they pull the pin and come back to this film in, say, five or six years… I think they’ll finally get what they’re seeing.
Jane Smith: “Wait, why do I get the girl gun?”
John Smith: “Are you kidding me?”
At first, when I heard they were filming this movie, I rolled my eyes and thought, “They’re remaking Prizzi’s Honor.” Yes, it’s about two killers who fall for each other, unbeknownst to them. But, it is nothing like that black comedy of the 80′s. When the truth comes out, as it must, even though they are lovers and together, Charley and Irene actually do try to rub the other out (and one succeeds). This is the other angle that makes me love this 2005 film more. Here, it’s clear that John and Jane are not the lovers from that earlier film (or that other time). They are married. Whether or not they have clandestine covers to hide behind, they still have a history. A marital one [ever notice that marital and martial are an anagram of the other?]. Review the scene after their climatic fight with each other, when they compare the scars they’ve acquired over the years in their trade. It’s an analogy of what they’ve come through… together. And it’s that, and the love they have for each other, that makes it impossible for either one to kill the other. They will fight for, and with, the other to keep it/them going. And that is what I admire. Marriage doesn’t work out for everyone. But, when it does…
John Smith: [at the marriage counselor's] “OK, I’ll go first. Um… Let me say, uh, we don’t really need to be here. See, we’ve been married for five years.”
Jane Smith: “Six.”
John Smith: [chastened] “Five… six years.”
Watch the two bookend sequences with the couple in sessions with the marriage counselor, again. Examine the other’s by-play and reactions during them. As tough and skilled as each of these assassins are, they are vulnerable to the other by way of their union. It’s subtly on display. They are connected by a real marriage. Peeves and looks, aside. And as surely as one could see Bogart actually falling in love with Lauren Bacall in To Have and Have Not, you can see the same here with Pitt and Jolie. Man, do they spark when together. I don’t follow or care about the tabloids regarding these two. I guess I identify with the two people on film falling in love (and their characters fighting to stay there). But, more than that, the individuals up there act like a couple. And a wife and husband that love and care for each other, no matter their differences, disagreements, or piques, can still be one formidable pair – as these two are in celluloid.
John Smith: “That left of yours is a thing of beauty.”
Jane Smith: “Mmm. You take it well.”
I definitely am not Brad Pitt, but I’ll put my salt & pepper haired beauty up against Angie anytime without a qualm (thank you very much). I’ll give the young folk their due for their current vampire craze in books, TV, and movies as a symbol of romantic love for their generation. Fair enough. They are more than welcome to it (I’m sure my approval or opinion is nothing they seek, anyway – that’s the way it is). However, I’ll take this strangely romantic action film over their stuff any day of the week. With its high-caliber exploits, explosions, battle scars, and all its emotions on its sleeve, Mr. & Mrs. Smith is, for me, a sweet and bruising metaphor for marriage, partnership, and enduring love. Did I mention that timing thing? This week is my 21st 22nd wedding anniversary. And yes, I’m guilty of putting things in the context of the popular arts (movies and books, especially). Plus, I am overly analytical and remote, at times. But at the core of my Mexican soul, there beats the heart of a romantic (that hot-blooded latin-thing my spouse reminds me of, from time-to-time). This little review is an homage to the rigors of marriage, in general — and the magnificence of my partner-in-life, specifically. And if it isn’t obvious by now to you, I deeply love the woman I married. More now than when we first wed in the late 80′s. Happy Anniversary, dear.
John Smith: “You looked like Christmas morning.”
Note: since today is our wedding anniversary, I decided to reprint (and update) this review from the old blog here. If I don’t do it, who will?
