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A Prayer for Thanksgiving 2021

Michael 4 Comments

ThanksgivingPrayerI published the post below in 2017. The world has changed since but our feelings toward it seem about the same. That no specific events are mentioned may be why I can look at that today and not be surprised that it doesn’t intimate the world’s current events. I wonder if it would have been as appropriate in 1945 or will be relevant in 2067. I wasn’t here yet for the former and don’t expect to make it to the latter so I will concentrate on 2017 and 2021 and find we are still just as clueless. Pity.

So here is my tale and my prayer from 4 years ago. I will repeat the prayer a few times today. Hopefully I won’t forget to say it on some other days also. That would be the real pity.

Happy Thanksgiving – or maybe we start with just Happy Thursday. Non-holidays need prayers too.

Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. It was or will be likewise around the world. Everybody is thankful for something and most nations have managed to work in a holiday to legitimize the feeling.

I don’t know how others do it but Americans have been managing to delegitimize feelings quite efficiently lately. We’ll tout our tolerance and claim to accept all and then slur anyone who doesn’t feel the same and blur want for welcome. We support everything and everyone as long as it or they support us in the manner to which we think we should be accustomed. Our gratitude for what we have is matched by our appetite for what we don’t.

Sometime today while I think of all that I am thankful for I’ll manage to miss most of them. So will everyone else. Mostly we’re not bad people as much as clueless ones. Clueless to the differences between our reality and the one that’s really out there. And clueless to how much we rely on what we don’t even know is happening.

So when you give your thanks today that hopefully you won’t restrict to just today I offer you the prayer I started today with.

Heavenly Father, this is the day set aside to give thanks for Your surpassing goodness to human beings. Let me give proper thanks for my blessings  –  those I am aware of as well as those that I habitually take for granted. And let me use them according to Your will.

Happy Thanksgiving today and every day you think to be thankful.

Uncontrolled Chaos

Michael 2 Comments
Here’s a news flash. I’m moving. Talk about challenges during a pandemic. Somehow I managed to review, tour, select, and sign for a new apartment without leaving the confines of my confining current compartment. Trust me, if it was up to me I would stay here forever but it’s my roommates, Myself and I, who are jonesing for new Joneses to keep up with.
 
You might remember for older posts that I spent 30 years in a sprawling, way too big on many levels (metaphorically and literally) for one person suburban house with the requisite yard, gardens and outside spaces. Five years ago I “downsized” into my now soon to be abandoned first attempt at retirement living. Not retirement living community, just retirement living.
 
I did pretty well with the first wave of downsizing, paring away about 3/4 of my accumulated possessions. After 5 years I’ve found that I’ve re-accumulated and am on the verge of “upsizing.” But it’s not for the newfound additional space I am pulling the plug on the present penthouse. That’s a tale for another day.
 
Today’s tale starts four weeks before I hit the drop dead date on renewing the current lease. Oh, how was I supposed to know there would be a global pandemic so close to my renewal date? Because I had resolved to drop dead before I would renew I had 4 weeks to find new lodging. Unfortunately that coincided exactly with the eve of the world shutting down. Oy! Or is that Oi? Whichever, it was a challenge. But I met the challenge and 4 weeks later I was not committing to a renewal. 
 
That was 30 days ago and I have 30 days to go. I have discovered that the challenge of finding a place while the world is isolated ain’t nothing compared to packing in isolation. To call this controlled chaos would be generous. Out of control pandemonium is not quite there either but it is closer.
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First, there’s just me here! Me and hundreds of flattened boxes that need reconstructed, rolls of tape in a holder/dispenser designed by a mechanical engineer who was last in his class, pieces of bubble wrap in a variety of shapes and sizes saved from the previous move and various package deliveries over the past 5 years, and felt tip marking pens that keep disappearing. No matter how carefully I wrap and place items into an expertly reconstructed cardboard box there’s always a corner too small for the last item my mind believes should fit there and too large for anything I do find to put there leaving still an empty corner just even smaller than that last item my mind still believes belongs there and nowhere else. In the process of filling that box I’ve reconstructed another box (expertly, of course) with just one item in it, the one my mind is still certain belonged in that empty corner of the first box. It was easier the last time I moved.
 
The last time I moved I was convalescing in a recliner while I wrapped a glass or two and directed the relatives doing the heavy lifting, err packing. The time before that was 30 years previous and there were professionals involved. Hmm, I just realized this might not be the cause of the virus and the Governor’s quarantine order. I might just not be good at packing. Oh my.
 
I’ll try to keep you up to date on my progress. As long as I can keep a computer or tablet out of a reconstructed cardboard box (expertly).
 
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Read All About It

Michael Leave a comment
Today is Read Across America Day, and to celebrate I’m going to write less and read more. So listen up! This will be short and hopefully sweet.
 
Read Across America Day was first celebrated in 1998 to call attention to … are you ready? maybe you should be sitting down … reading in America! It is to be celebrated on the school day closest to Dr. Seuss’s birthday (Theodor Geisel, March 2).
 
Here’s the thing about Read Across America Day. You don’t have to be in school, you don’t have to be American, you don’t even have to read in rhymes. I guess that’s three things. Well, here’s a fourth. You can keep reading even after today!
 
Read to your kids, grandkids, nieces and nephews, parents, pets, or even yourself. Reading is fun and educational, and books look good on the shelf. But they look better propped open, the words shared with a friend. So go read something now that this post’s reached its end.
 
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Not my library. Wish it was.

 
 

Acquaintancegiving

Michael 2 Comments
Sing along with me… It’s the most confusing time of the year! 
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The week before Thanksgiving – ugh. (Non-American residents please hang in there, next week we’ll be back to more universal topics.) This week the food related sites and emails are torn between last minute meal prep tips, what to do with leftover turkey tips, and Christmas cookie freezing tips. Home decor posts are split between the Thanksgiving tablescape to die for and how to make this year’s Christmas wreath out of empty aluminum soft drink cans (the new skinny 8oz. models). And editorial writers aren’t sure if they should sharpen their quills for the annual “1001 Things to Be Thankful For” column or “It’s Time to Apologize to Displaced Native Americans” missive. The only ones who seem to have a handle on the week are the merchants who will be switching headers on the sales catalogs from “Black Friday Sale!” to “Holiday Sale Spectacular!!!” (Same ad, just a different name.) 
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A new confusion, one even I missed the early signs of, are what we call this upcoming holiday. Although there had been “Days of Thanksgiving” in what would become these United States since the early 1600s, it was by a proclamation by Abraham Lincoln in 1863 that the holiday we celebrate today was established. For years thereafter the President would proclaim one of the last Thursdays in November to be a “Day of Thanksgiving.” In 1941, Congress finally got around to formalizing the holiday with a resolution permanently stamping the fourth Thursday in November on future calendars as Thanksgiving Day. 
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And so it was for going on 80 years that about this time each year, people would greet one another with a jaunty “Happy Thanksgiving!” Sometime in my life, which admittedly spans more than 3/4 of those 80 years but a far smaller portion of the 300+ years since the Pilgrims made up the silent majority, people began to augment Happy Thanksgiving with phrases like Happy Turkey Day or Good Harvesting. Then in 2007 Friendsgiving reared its ugly head.
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“Thanksgiving is for families,” the argument went. “I want to celebrate my gratitude for my closest friends with my friends.” Sometimes people would actually verbalize that they liked their friends better than their families anyway. Now I am not against friends and friendship nor do I feel friends should be excluded from our celebrations, our gratitude, or our celebrations of our gratitude. In my world when we wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving with our friends we invited those friends to Thanksgiving dinner. The house was more crowded, table was a lot fuller, and not all the plates matched but we all squeezed in, gave our thanks, and proceeded to devour many pounds of food apiece. A couple of years we even tried a buffet style dinner and one particularly warm year we extended the festivities onto the back yard deck. What was important was that we all shared the wish for family and friends with the same expression of gratitude.
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By a totally unscientific review, this year that great marker of contemporary social acceptance, the Television Sitcom Holiday Special, featured more Friendsgiving celebrations than family Thanksgiving meals. I know next month the airways will be full of “Happy Holidays!” taking the place of yesteryear’s “Merry Christmas” and I’ve learned to accept that. I suffer through the growing number of Indigenous Persons Day recognitions where Columbus Day used to be and I am willing to concede Presidents Day actually exists even without ever having been recognized by any governing body outside of Madison Avenue. Valentine’s Day is for more than lovers and St. Patrick’s Day really is a test of who can drink the most green beer in a single seating. Can’t we leave just one holiday alone?
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If you’ll excuse me now, I have to make room in the refrigerator for some turkey hash, sweet potato pancakes, and green bean casserole soup. I want to be able to properly give thanks well into next week too!
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Happy Thanksgiving!
Turkey

Orange is the New Gold

Michael Leave a comment
Sunday November 3 was the coldest Sunday since spring had sprung some 7 months earlier. And what was I getting ready for at 6:30 that morning? I was going for a walk, a Kidney Walk at of all places, the Pittsburgh Zoo.
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This particular Sunday stroll was in support of the National Kidney Foundation, and organization in support of kidney disease education, treatment, and support. Like so many other disease focused organizations, money raised by the NKF goes to research for treatment and to find a cure for kidney disease. But it also provides direct assistance to those suffering the disease right now by assisting patients, families, and caregivers through resources including health checks and screenings, drug discount programs, and peer support made possible by fundraising activities.
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Since I had begun chronic dialysis 3 years ago I recieved helped from the National Kidney Foundation but was never able to show my support for the organization. For the first time since my diagnosis my entire immediate family was able to register for the walk. The Kidney Walk does not carry an “entrance fee” nor a “suggested donation.” Your entry fee is your willingness to show support. Your donation is what you want to give or can raise from friends and family to support your personal cause. This year 2300 Pittsburgh walkers raised over $255,000 for those causes and I’m happy to report that my family was responsible for one of those thousands. Walkers included kidney transplant recipients, kidney donors, dialysis patients, care providers, and those many friends and family members on foot, in wheelchairs and strollers, with the help of canes and walkers, and even physically carried by others.
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Unlike many others walking I was diagnosed without any of the classic risk factors or warning signs. The major risk factors for kidney disease are high blood pressure and diabetes; family history and obesity are also major contributors to that risk. Some of the common early warning signs include nausea and vomiting, irregular heartbeats, pain in the lower back, and shortness of breath. I had and still have none of those. My kidney disease is caused by complications from an autoimmune disease and was revealed through routine lab studies at regular checkups. Like many walkers I doubted I would ever find myself relying on dialysis for life or undergoing a kidney transplant. And most unfortunately like many other walkers I found myself both of those. Most fortunately though, my disease was discovered and I was able to join in the walk.
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Orange was the color of the day at the zoo. Although kidney disease awareness is typically represented by a green ribbon, the National Kidney Foundation has adopted orange and black as the organization colors. Orange shirts, hoodies, caps, backpacks, and even baby strollers marched on a three mile trek among the animals at the Pittsburgh Zoo to bring awareness to chronic kidney disease, a disease that affects nearly 40 million American adults with another 200,000 diagnosed each year.  Over 800,000 of those patient are in end stage renal failure requiring dialysis or a kidney transplant.
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To us it doesn’t matter what color was worn. The money raised is the gold at the end of the rainbow. 
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I Wish I May…

Michael 4 Comments

You’ve seen them. Perhaps a newspaper feature article on a local 100 year old, or a minor celebrity suddenly experiencing the harder side of life after having been diagnosed with an incurable (or even a curable) disease, or maybe even an ad for a home care agency home hospice program. What is it that that you’ve seen or heard or read? That earnest looking and sounding unfortunate soul baring his or her life to the camera, reporter, microphone, or ad agency saying “my one last wish, my most hopeful dream, the one thing I’m most looking forward to, is dying in my own bed. It’s what keeps me going.” Well I’ll tell you right now, if you ever hear me utter such nonsense just shoot me where I stand. Unless I’m standing in my own home, then take me across the street or at least out back first.

How bad does your life have to be that the only thing you’re looking forward to, the one thing you want most out of that life, your biggest dream for yourself, is to be dead. Yes, when you die in your own home you end up dead. Something we all realize we will someday be but something most people would not aspire to, brain-addled suicide bombers notwithstanding.

I don’t know what I want most out of my life. I know what I want out of my life most but those aren’t the same thing. My biggest dream probably depends on what’s annoying me most on a particular day. Too many therapists, too many phone calls, and way behind on sweepstakes entries – I dream of the solitude of an uninhabited (except for me, select guest(s), and a killer bartender) island. Too many healthy meals too many days in a row – pizza from a pizza shop known for as many toppings (please, pineapple is not a pizza topping under any circumstance) as one can humanly get to stay on a pizza crust.

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Not only does “die in my own bed” sound way too dramatic for the average Jo or Joe, it’s quite unfair to those who share that home or are expecting to have it on the real estate market next week. Dying in life (I’m not sure how else to phrase that) isn’t like dying in the movies. Most people don’t smile, say goodbye to the assembled group of friends and family, then nod off just as the last relative passes by. There are noises, smells, and often a lot of movement before and after the fact. There’s cleaning up to do and people to call like in the absence of home hospice, 911. I’d rather have understaffed nursing personnel handle the dirty details or more frankly the cleaning detail, than a loved family member. Of course if you are really annoyed at your family that day, well, who am I to judge?

If someone was to put a gun to my head and say I must come up with my one greatest wish or I’d get it right there I’d probably say to live at least one more day. It seems so much more wish worthy. I wonder if under the same circumstances those with that burning desire to die in their own beds would as calmly as they could, tell the gunman, “So, can you drive me home first?”

Build Me Up, Margarine Cup?

Michael 5 Comments

Over the weekend I happened across a protracted online discussion regarding a new (to me) product by Melt (also new to me), uh, drum roll — butter (not new to me) (I thought).

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Apparently Melt’s “butter” is what us old guys call margarine. Except instead of corn, soybean, canola, or olive oil, it’s made of this year’s designer oils including coconut and sunflower.

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The discussion centered around that the product is labeled butter. Not butter substitute, not vegetable spread, not even “plant butter” ala Country Crock’s vegan spread. Butter. Unlike most of the European countries and Canada, the U.S. does not have a standard for what can be called milk, butter, or a variety of other dairy products. The “for” group pointed to almond milk, soy bacon, and veggie cheese. The “anti” group pointed to almond milk, soy bacon, and veggie cheese. The logic seems to be that each of those products specify its source in the product name and thus does not mislead the consumer.

Personally I have a problem with calling a non-dairy product butter, although I and millions of other carnivores do it routinely when we reach for that tastiest of all spreads, peanut butter. But again, peanut butter isn’t going to be mistaken for the stuff you create sauces with or turn to into cookies (peanut butter cookies, which also use butter butter, notwithstanding). We also confuse issues with the inaccurately named buttermilk, which unlike almond milk is not made with its modifier, and let’s not even talk about head cheese.

So what’s the solution to this confusion. If I had one I’d be chairman of a high powered, and high price, think tank, not writing a blog on a free domain. Maybe we should get back to calling things what they really are, like beef and pork and sausage. But then would even the most hard core meat eater go for “cow,” “pig,” and “your guess is as good as mine?”

 

Halt! Who Goes There?

Michael Leave a comment

I had all sorts of stuff I was going to ramble on about but I lost my complete train of thought when it was pointed out to me on last week’s post that the moon landing was JULY 20, not JUNE 20. I am so mortified. I can only imagine what you think of me. Alternately I can only imagine that nobody actually reads this drivel. Either way, it’s no wonder why I never saw anything celebrating its anniversary and I’m very sorry for misleading everybody.

Now on to today’s drivel. I know it had something to do with standing in doorways. I remember that much because I have a constant reminder of blocked doorways. You see, I’m not home right now. I was discharged from the hospital 2 weeks ago but I’ve been staying with my daughter at her house until I am strong enough to be back on my own. I’m getting there but every couple days when I think I’m making progress I have dialysis which beats me up like a nogoodnik beats on a shamus in a classic film noir. Sorry, I digress. As I was saying, there is a constant reminder there of blocked doorways and it goes by the name of Jingle, a part pointer, part husky, part bull dog, part Yeti 3 year old rescue who is convinced he is a 3 year old human. Except…

Except a three year old human you can deal with when every time you enter a room he bounds around you and stands in the doorway looking up at you mentally asking if this was the room want to go to, is it, huh, huh, is it. A three year old dog, who really should know better, not so much. A three year old human can be reasoned with, and barring reasoning he can be lifted and moved out of the way. A three year old multi-mix, especially one exceeding your lifting limit sevenfold, not so much. A three year human someday will grow into a four year human and then five and so on and so on and if today you don’t get your point across eventually he will understand probably when he is the one tripping over an impediment to room entry. A three year old canine living statue, who will only grow into a four year old living statue and then five and then so on and so on, not so much.

So I have this reminder it I’m not sure what the big story behind it is. I’m sure it was quite profound and may even change your outlook on the world around you. If I should remember I’ll jot it down somewhere and write a proper post about it. But not on July 20. That date is taken.

JingleAndPenguin

Jingle and Penguin

All Stuck Up

Michael 7 Comments

It’s time for me to come clean. I don’t have a favorite mayonnaise. Hellmann’s or Kraft is ok with me. I couldn’t tell the difference between a store brand and Duke’s. Whether regular, light, or olive oil based, I don’t care. Once I even made my own. For all the work involved, any advantage was lost on me. Sorry. Mayo is mayo and as long as it’s thick, white, and has a little tang it fills my mayo need.

On the other hand, every other condiment in the world has gone through extreme testing and I have strong preferences. These fall into two categories. Those I like and use and those I would rather do without. Rather do without. That doesn’t mean I don’t bend if I have to. If I’m at friends’ house and they are serving one of those other mustards at their cookout, I won’t turn my nose up and whip out my brand from a handy condiment belt. I’m not a snob. Except …

Except for honey and syrup. You might say that when it comes to honey and syrup, I’m pretty much stuck on what I like. I got to thinking about this because I just used the last of my honey this past Sunday when I made the glaze for the Easter ham and the last of my syrup on this morning’s breakfast pancakes.

(If you have a good memory you know in my last post I mentioned that we went out for our Easter dinner. That’s right, we did. But that didn’t stop me from baking a ham.)

(Some traditions die harder than others.)

(We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.)

I may have even mentioned before that I can be a honey and syrup snob. There aren’t specific brands of either that I have hitched my wagon to. Rather there are specific sources. Local sources. Local is always better. Think about last summer and the green beans you got at the farmers’ market versus those you got at your snow bound mega-mart’s produce section on your last shopping trip. I prefer the summer stock also, but that doesn’t stop me from eating green beans in January. But honey and syrup. Those are two different stories. If I can’t get local, I don’t get.

Fortunately, our local maple festival is this weekend. Those little plastic bottles of refined tree sap will soon fill my pantry! Honey isn’t a big seller at a maple festival. In fact, it’s not a seller at all at this one. Fortunately, right outside the park hosting the festival is a farm store where the natural nectar fills the shelves. So it looks like in one smooth motion I’ll be able to restore honey harmony and syrup snobbery to my kitchen.

And I, for one weekend, will be the most stuck up guy in the country.

 

Things Numerous but not Sufficiently Voluminous

Michael 4 Comments

I’ve had too many odd thoughts running around in my head and it’s time to get rid of some things that don’t make any sense to keep.

ModernThinkerHave you seen the new Internet food fad, donut chips? The last time I was at the store I purposely sought out day old donuts to try them. What you’re supposed to do is split your leftover donut in half so you have two skinny disks. Then you coat these in sugar and cinnamon and press them in a panini press. Don’t waste your time. Or your donuts. Unless you like flat, scorched, stale donuts.

I’ve seen this a lot in the last few weeks. A vehicle with appropriate handicap placard or plates idling in a handicap marked parking spot with a driver. This confuses me, particularly when I am walking past the vehicle in question after having has to park my handicap marked vehicle 3 rows away. Is this idling driver an able bodied person who dropped off his or her handicapped passenger at the store front and will return to the door to then pick up the passenger? Or is it a handicapped driver who dropped off his or her able bodied passenger and is himself (or herself) not intending on getting out of the vehicle. In either case, does that car have to be in that spot?

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View from my patio early Wednesday morning

Should it be normal that I didn’t think anything odd that almost 9 inches of snow fell here on the first full day of spring?

Baseball, the game of the boys of summer, starts its season March 29. Hockey and the boys of winter start the Stanley Cup playoffs on April 11. I wonder if this is why baseball style caps are the biggest hockey fashion accessory after replica sweaters.

There is a difference between being chronically ill and being disabled. Yes, a person can be both one leading to the other, and can be both neither affecting the other, and one can be either and not the other. The struggles are real for any of the above.

Am I the only person who still uses the 3 part recipe – eggs fat, and heat – for scrambled eggs and adds a splash of half and half in my morning meal mix?

QuestionIt’s been eleven days since we changed our clocks to Daylight Saving Time and I still have one clock that hasn’t’ been advanced yet. If people want an extra hour of daylight in the summer why don’t they just get up an hour earlier?

Why are there braille markings on drive up ATMs?

How many spiders are living with me that I can wipe out all the cobwebs in the corners on Monday and they’re all back Tuesday morning? And should I be worried about that?

Thank you for listening. I feel much lighter now.