Yesterday, for the first time in forever, we carried ourselves to our city. The one made of steel, emotionally and physically, the one where three rivers meet. The one Andy Warhol found lacking and left as soon as he was able. Though, I think the Pittsburgh he knew was quite different from the one that exists now.
We took a boat ride under the guise of finding something to do. During his introduction, the captain thanked everyone for, “joining us on this Thanksgiving weekend.”
So to all and sundry, I offer a hearty: Happy Thanksgiving! I hope this day of fun, sun, and turkey finds every single one of you well and happy.
“How do you know global warming is real?” “People are confusing Thanksgiving and Independence Day.”
Happy Fourth of Turkey Day! To a nation who created these two holidays out of whole cloth. A young nation even at the age of 245 years old. A nation, like all young things, that runs on blind enthusiasm and hubris. One who, as we all must do, is just now taking that long shameful look at its past. And is, as of this writing, wrestling like hell with the “denial” stage of the grieving process.
Buck up, champ. You had/have some lovely ideals. The execution kind of went to seed. But still, delightful ideals.
A proposal for next year. Instead of setting off explosives for a prolonged period of time, why don’t we chuck a couple crates of fine English tea into the ocean. Just like old times!
Think it over, let me know by Thanksgiving.
Take it easy, pally. And have a safe and lovely day.