Man, all I can say is that I’m glad my ass is firmly planted in a chair at home. A vanilla porter is sitting next to my lap top and it’s Friday night at 5:27 pm. That means the work week is once again winding down. Groceries are purchased, vinyl is spinning, and I’m not gritting my teeth and fighting the urge to gouge someone’s eyes out at the job that pays the bills. The other thing I’m really happy about is that I only have one more week of work and then I’m off for a week. Thanksgiving, I’m thankful for you giving me an excuse to take a week off of work.
For the last several years I’ve taken the week of Thanksgiving off. For me, Thanksgiving is the holiday I look forward to most. It’s a time to be thankful for those folks sitting around the table with you shoving their mouths full of homemade goodness and a flightless bird named Meleagris gallopavo; aka turkey, Turkey. Not being a particularly religious person, Thanksgiving to me is the holiday of brotherhood, sisterhood, and colorful hoodie sweatshirts.
We celebrated many holidays with my Grandma Ruthie, but Thanksgiving was the one that I always so looked forward to with her. There was always so much laughter in the house(maybe the whiskey on the rocks helped that along.) She made the best pumpkin and pecan pies, and just for me she’d make a pineapple upside down cake. There was usually a card game of sorts going on before and after dinner(she loved Skipbo.) But more than anything, she just had a way to make you feel so damn loved. Her smile and her laugh. She always had a smile and a hug for you. She always wanted to know what was going on with you. Sure, all this happened on Christmas and Easter, but there was something different about Thanksgiving. It wasn’t about anything religious. It was truly about what church preaches every Sunday: fellowship. Not to a deity, but to each other. Thankful for my mom’s kindness. Thankful for my wife’s understanding of my vinyl addiction. Thankful for my beautiful kids and their willingness to put up with my insanity. Thankful for a job that puts a roof over our heads. Thankful for my dad’s help with everything I can’t do around my house. And most of all, thankful for figuring out what I should truly be thankful for now and not later. Thankful for knowing what truly matters in this world.
So yeah, I’m looking forward to carving the bird, dishing out the mashed taters, indulging in pie, and thinking about my grandma Ruthie.
Tonight I’m spinning Grizzly Bear’s Yellow House. The band has progressed, gotten looser, and have learned how to unbutton a their extra-starched shirts since this album came out, but I think Yellow House is still my favorite album of theirs. It feels more like classical music than pop. If it’s pop, it’s complicated pop. It feels like music that should be in an Ingmar Bergman film. Or music that should be in a remake of Woody Allen’s Interiors, if someone ever decides to remake it. It’s dense, all-encompassing music that I absolutely adore. I can get lost in this record for an afternoon AND an evening. I wish I’d gone to see Radiohead back in the summer of 2008 when I had the chance as Grizzly Bear was opening for them. Live and learn, I suppose.
Well, I think it’s time to grab another porter. I want to hear from you all on this wonderfully crisp fall evening. How are you doing? What’s going on? Everything good?