happy concillatory nod to indigenous people’s day!

I don’t generally like celebrating holidays, I’ve decided. I find that the commercial aspects have taken most of the magic out of them. Ironically, Christmas is my favorite holiday for just that very reason, I like to get things.

It seems like, not unlike a game of Telephone, our modern traditions get distilled down into their base parts. Much like the original telephone message boils down to a single correct word, “Banana!”, Thanksgiving is now about eating, possibly with other people, and maybe there is cranberry sauce.

Even the meal has gotten summarized. What used to be turkey, giblets, stuffing, green bean casserole, this horrible celery something, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, corn, bread, and yes, cranberry sauce; is now maybe turkey sometimes ham, stuffing, and one of the above based on whim.

And, in that succinctness, so comes a general dulling of the splendor. I personally believe that adherence to the splendor and tedium of ceremony is the single most important thing that’s keeping the Catholic church alive and well. “Hell, look at all the kneeling and crossing themselves…and that stained glass ain’t cheap! If they’re going to go to THIS kind of trouble, there must be something to it!”

But I digress.

Not usually a fan of holidays save Christmas and the 4th of July. Sometimes New Year’s, though they are often disasters. Despite that, I decided to break out mom’s 24-hour salad recipe this year and cook a beef roast. If I’m going to celebrate, I’m going to at LEAST do it wrong on purpose.

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