I woke up today and said "It's
turkey-lurky day!" (admittedly not at my Sondheim best at that hour) to put
Con and I in the mood for the holiday, but frankly, I don't hold out much hope
for any turkey today, nor do I know if I'd want it if offered. Some things just
don't travel well, and I expect that the traditional American Thanksgiving
meal is one of them. Truth be told, I'm not that fond of turkey anyway,
although I do love the stuffing and mashed potatoes with gravy. (Turkey sandwiches,
on the other hand, are a favorite.)
As I look out the window, I see trees filled with green leaves, including coconut trees. The weather remains warm, nothing more than a shirt and shorts are needed for dress. We're definitely not in Iowa anymore. This reminds me again of one thing that we miss: the change of seasons. By late fall, the best place to go for me was Kent Park on a Sunday late afternoon. Leaves having fallen, the structure of it all reveals itself. Heraclitus said that Nature loves to hide, but autumn reveals many of Nature's hidden structures. Trees without leaves reveal their bones against the chilled, blue sky. The colors of the prairie grasses glow a greenish gold in the twilight. The surrounding cornfields are no more than stubble now, revealing great expanses of fields and signaling completion another harvest. Under time's bending sickle's compass comes all. Autumn reminds us of this in Iowa.
By at least Thanksgiving Day, I break out the seasonal music. I've just listened to George Winston's "Thanksgiving" from his December album. The title and tenor of the piece capture the mood and season, but it also has sentimental value to me. I remember dancing with the Glamorous Nomad to this and other Winston pieces when my dancing partner sat in the crook of my arm, happy to twirl to my rude dance in our small living room on 10th Street Place in Coralville. The remainder of the album includes many traditional Christmas pieces that help set the tone for the season.
Christmas music, outside of the Muzak variety, remains a favorite. From my collection of medieval music to croon an' swoon, some pieces still resonate. The early music pieces speak of the primal celebration of Christmas: of hope, nativity, and new beginnings. I think my fascination with early music comes from the medieval history survey course I took from John Bell Henneman in the fall and early winter semester of 1974. Such a bleak and cold world marked by war, famine, and pestilence. Life so tenuous, yet the Christian culture seemed to provide some measure of hope and relief. Advent and Christmas seem especially to provide a sense of hope to the unimaginable uncertainty of life in that bleak time. So Thanksgiving marks a transition to the Advent season, a season of preparation. (Last night, through the miracle of iTunes, I listened to Sir Alec Guinness recite T.S. Eliot's "Journey of the Magi", a wonderful poem for the season.)
For this year, the transition will include a journey to a land new to us, Ethiopia, as we prepare to see our Africa girl and our China girl and explore more. These ancient lands, so exotic and strange to us, contain societies far older than ours. A land at once new and old.
We have a great deal to give thanks for. It's been an incredible year: Jaipur, Udaipur, Jodhpur, Ajmer, and the rest of Rajasthan. Nepal and the Himalayas. Meghalaya and the wettest place on earth above the Bangladeshi plain. Delhi with its monuments and history. Amritsar and the Golden Temple. Dalhousie in the cool and fog of the Himalayan hills. London: our first visit to the great seat of history and culture, where for us the sun shone with little interruption and St. Paul's called to my Protestant roots. Good ol' 345 Magowan in Iowa City: it doesn't seem to want to let us go. Delicious Puebla and grand Mexico City with the great volcano Popocatepetl between them spewing smoke and ash. The comfortable Chicago burbs. Rome--Rome! More incredible art and more living history than one can imagine. Tuscany: only a day, but we shall return because the postcard views proved real and the food and wine beyond words. Chengdu, China: an incredible city, vibrant and amazing; small noodle and dumpling shops and grand, new buildings; and wonderful month with the Glamorous Nomad and her terrific peeps. The Daoist mountain: all high-tech getting there and then a reprieve from it all with the Nature of traditional China. Trivandrum, our new home: lions and tigers for neighbors, ocean breezes and coconut trees below us, and the beach a short--albeit congested--drive away. Here in Chennai: another Indian city that somehow works despite itself. What a year!
But most of all, it's all worthwhile because of family and friends. Without those we share with, nothing would count. So here's wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving, and thanks to you.
As I look out the window, I see trees filled with green leaves, including coconut trees. The weather remains warm, nothing more than a shirt and shorts are needed for dress. We're definitely not in Iowa anymore. This reminds me again of one thing that we miss: the change of seasons. By late fall, the best place to go for me was Kent Park on a Sunday late afternoon. Leaves having fallen, the structure of it all reveals itself. Heraclitus said that Nature loves to hide, but autumn reveals many of Nature's hidden structures. Trees without leaves reveal their bones against the chilled, blue sky. The colors of the prairie grasses glow a greenish gold in the twilight. The surrounding cornfields are no more than stubble now, revealing great expanses of fields and signaling completion another harvest. Under time's bending sickle's compass comes all. Autumn reminds us of this in Iowa.
By at least Thanksgiving Day, I break out the seasonal music. I've just listened to George Winston's "Thanksgiving" from his December album. The title and tenor of the piece capture the mood and season, but it also has sentimental value to me. I remember dancing with the Glamorous Nomad to this and other Winston pieces when my dancing partner sat in the crook of my arm, happy to twirl to my rude dance in our small living room on 10th Street Place in Coralville. The remainder of the album includes many traditional Christmas pieces that help set the tone for the season.
Christmas music, outside of the Muzak variety, remains a favorite. From my collection of medieval music to croon an' swoon, some pieces still resonate. The early music pieces speak of the primal celebration of Christmas: of hope, nativity, and new beginnings. I think my fascination with early music comes from the medieval history survey course I took from John Bell Henneman in the fall and early winter semester of 1974. Such a bleak and cold world marked by war, famine, and pestilence. Life so tenuous, yet the Christian culture seemed to provide some measure of hope and relief. Advent and Christmas seem especially to provide a sense of hope to the unimaginable uncertainty of life in that bleak time. So Thanksgiving marks a transition to the Advent season, a season of preparation. (Last night, through the miracle of iTunes, I listened to Sir Alec Guinness recite T.S. Eliot's "Journey of the Magi", a wonderful poem for the season.)
For this year, the transition will include a journey to a land new to us, Ethiopia, as we prepare to see our Africa girl and our China girl and explore more. These ancient lands, so exotic and strange to us, contain societies far older than ours. A land at once new and old.
We have a great deal to give thanks for. It's been an incredible year: Jaipur, Udaipur, Jodhpur, Ajmer, and the rest of Rajasthan. Nepal and the Himalayas. Meghalaya and the wettest place on earth above the Bangladeshi plain. Delhi with its monuments and history. Amritsar and the Golden Temple. Dalhousie in the cool and fog of the Himalayan hills. London: our first visit to the great seat of history and culture, where for us the sun shone with little interruption and St. Paul's called to my Protestant roots. Good ol' 345 Magowan in Iowa City: it doesn't seem to want to let us go. Delicious Puebla and grand Mexico City with the great volcano Popocatepetl between them spewing smoke and ash. The comfortable Chicago burbs. Rome--Rome! More incredible art and more living history than one can imagine. Tuscany: only a day, but we shall return because the postcard views proved real and the food and wine beyond words. Chengdu, China: an incredible city, vibrant and amazing; small noodle and dumpling shops and grand, new buildings; and wonderful month with the Glamorous Nomad and her terrific peeps. The Daoist mountain: all high-tech getting there and then a reprieve from it all with the Nature of traditional China. Trivandrum, our new home: lions and tigers for neighbors, ocean breezes and coconut trees below us, and the beach a short--albeit congested--drive away. Here in Chennai: another Indian city that somehow works despite itself. What a year!
But most of all, it's all worthwhile because of family and friends. Without those we share with, nothing would count. So here's wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving, and thanks to you.
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