Happy Thanksgiving!

To all my American readers, wherever you happen to be. I hope your day is filled with joy, family and/or memories of great times together, gratitude and hope.

Your homeland is a bountiful one, with many opportunities for an ambitious person to make a fair living. So many people the world over dream of the freedom and prosperity Americans enjoy and would give a lot to be there.

You also have an amazing pool of talent; Americans have produced marvelous inventions, written great stories and verses. Here’s a verse from one of my favorite old-time poets, Edgar Guest. With his thousands of home-spun verses about everyday things, he was known as “the poet of the American people” and “the bard of America’s hopes and dreams.”

The Brighter Side

Though life has its trouble and life has its care
and often its dark days of sorrow,
there is always the hope that the sky will be fair
and the heart will be happy tomorrow.

There’s always the light of a goal just ahead,
a glimpse of the dream we’re pursuing,
in spite of the difficult pathway we tread
there is much it is good to be doing.

Time empties the purse of the pennies of youth,
the heart of its innocent laughter,
but gives in return just a few grains of truth
and the promise of more to come after.

There’s never a new day lived out to the end,
however life’s tempests may pitch us,
but what with a triumph, a joy, or a friend,
the swift, fleeting hours may enrich us.

There is so much to do and there’s so much to see
in spite of the troubles that fret us,
so much to wait for and so much to be
if only the future will let us —

that life with its burdens and life with its tears
and its heart-burning touches of sadness
still lures us all on to the end of our years
with its friendships, its loves, and its gladness.

From the book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co

Are You Boxing Today?

Good morning everyone.

We woke up yesterday morning to a delightful fluffy blanket of fresh snow and a calm, mild sort of day. This morning it’s -15° C / 5° F and a serious wind from the NW, reducing the temp to -21 C / -11 F with windchill factored in. a person doesn’t want to be out side long in this “invigorating” weather.

And it’s Boxing Day here in Canada. While this day hasn’t no spiritual significance, it was traditionally a day to at least think of the poor. Back in Ebeneezer Scrooge’s Day folks would have packed up boxes of food and goodies as a special treat for the poor. Of which there were many, as the Ghost of Christmas Present reminded Scrooge, including Ebeneezer’s own clerk, Bob Cratchett.

When it comes to charity, some folks are truly giving and kind, no strings attached, bless their dear hearts. When they give a gift, it’s a quality item. Others have agendas of buying friendship or affection, and still others use this as a way to feel good while getting rid of outdated, unwanted stuff. I managed a Thrift Shop for a year and could write lots about this. 😉

And there was a generation that saved everything and passed it on. My Aunt-Mom grew up in very poor circumstances and never wanted to throw away anything that might be useful. She didn’t hoard, though; she passed it on. After I was married, she’d pack and mail big Christmas parcels for us with all manner of things like cookies they couldn’t eat, blank menu sheets from the restaurant they sold, stamps they hadn’t sold at the post office, or Grandma’s old dresses for me to make into girls’ aprons. I still think back with affection on Mom’s grab-box parcels, but I can’t say much got used.

Mine is the generation that’s had to move those dear old parents and grandparents into small apartments, which meant helping them downsize. I’m sure a lot of you can tell about an endeavor of that sort. While I’m trying to declutter for my children’s sake, I still have that mindset that “This might come in handy if / could still be used for…” Yes. they’ll still have a lot of stuff to deal with when we move on.

Back to Boxing Day. I doubt anyone’s packing boxes for the poor today. Christmas hampers are generally given out ahead of time by a number of charities these days. Boxing Day has come to mean SALES! Advertised well in advance. Two weeks before Christmas we got a “BOXING WEEK SALE” flier from some store.

Traditionally, stores here in Canada have been closed on Boxing Day, though some are pushing it and some provinces are allowing store opening today. In one way, Boxing Day is our Black Friday, except that Christmas is over, the pressure is off, and there’s no scrambling over each other to get to bargains. Boxing Day/Week sales are simply the way stores get rid of surplus inventory — especially seasonal and/or perishable — before the Easter sales start in February. Sigh…

And now I shall treat myself to a cup of fresh hot coffee and think about my day’s work. We aren’t having our family Christmas until Sunday, which should give me time to scrounge through my closets and come up with a nice box of misc-this-and-that as a special treat for my grandchildren. Then they’ll have something to tell their children about Granny’s Christmas parcels — and my daughter will be that much ahead when it comes time to deal with our stuff. 😉

Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning: SPIRITUAL
Daily Addiction prompt word: TREAT

The Plumpest Goose

The Word of the Day prompt today is SHAMBLES
Here’s my response:

O Caveat Emptor!
by me

To the shambles she made her way
to choose their goose for Christmas Day.
The butcher offered “My very best!
This bird will look delicious, dressed.
I’ll set a price you can afford.”
Her shillings in his hand she poured.
At home she learned that goose so plump
had been enhanced with a bicycle pump.

🙂

Attractive Offers

Parking

As you can see, parking was tight in front of the Haggleburg General Store two days before Thanksgiving.

The reason for this was obvious to everyone who lived there. On the Monday before the holiday Geordie MacLellan, a poultry farmer west of town, would butcher his young turkeys. This gave local cooks time to choose their birds and get them in the oven for Thursday’s Thanksgiving meal. On Tuesday morning Geordie’s three teenage daughters came to town and set up a table beside the General Store. Here they would sell fresh young turkeys all morning.

Everyone knew Geordie’s birds were attractive, plump speciens with nicely toned flesh and exquisite drumsticks. In the heat they’d toast up to an appealing golden brown. The street by the store would be crowded as young bachelors from the surrounding area came to eye Georgie’s birds and dream of home- cooked feasts.

Of course they planned to do a little visiting with Geordie’s daughters, too, the girls being quite attractive in their own way. Seasoned cooks sorting through the poultry would wink at each other as some young blade let it be known, in forlorn tones, that he had no plans for a Thanksgiving dinner. Everyone knew the girls were allowed to invite guests — but no more than a dozen! — for the day.

The MacLellan girls were reputed to be as good cooks as their mother. And the MacLellan men liked to eat. An invitation to join Geordie’s family for a holiday meal was the ticket to a day in gourmet glory. Young men made sure they got to town very early that day to do their shopping.

So now you know, too, why parking spaces were hard to find on Main Street in Haggleburg on the Tuesday morning before Thanksgiving.

I really went to town with Fandango’s prompt today: PARKING