A Day of Thanks

Now that we've all reflected on the theft of native lands, and we fast in remembrance of the germ warfare of our forefathers , I feel I should concentrate on the meaning of this day. In 1863, under much pressure from an editor of a women's magazine, President Lincoln made Thanksgiving an official holiday (much to the chagrin of Native people all over the U.S.) Now, on this day, everyone officially gives thanks to god for giving us whatever and for providing us with this wonderful country, much to the chagrin of its native people. And by god, I of course mean the Christian god, who provides us with what we need, and gives us the excuse of "dominion over all the earth", much to the chagrin of really, pretty much of all of us. Climate change, extinct species, international warfare, in the name of national security of course.

In light of everything it seems difficult to give thanks for much. I see, on a regular basis, the effect that we've had on our planet and our people. The homeless are piling up and our seasons are warming up, but, I guess that I should give thanks for what I have. But how can I? I know that what I have is thanks to the sacrifice of those starving in Africa (and under the Hellsgate Bridge), and those working in the sweatshops of New Delhi (or in a basement on Bowery), and sometimes it seems for naught. Is my comfort really worth the price that others pay? It seems adverse, if not just out-right selfish, to give thanks for the fact that at least it's them and not me.

But hey, why am I complaining? I've got what I need... cable TV, internet, shit, I can even have my laundry picked up and done for me. So thanks, tah all y'all, for making this possible, and next time I buy something big, I'll try to save the box for ya.

When Did Halloween Become a Four-Letter Word?

I've always enjoyed Halloween. When I was younger (about 4, maybe 5), my dad made me a dragon costume, complete with a beautiful papier-mâché helmet/mask thing that was absolutely fantastic. I got dressed at home, did some trick-or-treating, and then went to church for a Halloween party. Yes, a for real Halloween party, at the church. Not a fall harvest festival or any other sort of euphemistic Halloween gathering. One year, we even went to my Grandparents' church and I bobbed for apples, there were fake cobwebs and people dressed as dead things. There was a big banner that spelled out "Happy Halloween", with black and orange crepe paper streamers and everything. We played games and had a pinata full of candy, and made crafty things. We drank punch, and ate candy and shortbread cookies, and shouted boo at each other. There was even a cheesy award for best costume.

But then something happened. About fifteen years ago. The party got pooped. All of a sudden someone forgot the fun and decided Halloween was bad. Church-goers were encouraged not to celebrate Halloween because of its pagan roots. Does that mean that all those who had previously celebrated Halloween were in the wrong? Were pastors leading their flocks astray? Did scores of young trick-or-treaters later become unabashed, Satan worshiping, blood orgy enthusiasts? Or had Halloween evolved from a pagan celebration of the dead to a great excuse to get together, dress silly, and have a good time? I just can't help but think of the pumpkin picking (and carving) and silly Halloween games that gave family and friends one more reason to get together and do something fun; things that another generation may be missing out on. Why couldn't it be left at that?