Yours 'til Niagara Falls

Christmas Spirit

I could not help but take notice that this year Thanksgiving was merely a speedbump on the road to Black Friday sales.  We were bombarded with tv commercials and sales fliers that informed you that if you were not in line at Hellmart by 3:00 a.m., your family's Christmas would be ruined.  I find it an interesting counterpoint to programs like Clean House and Hoarders which give us all an object lesson in how your life can become derailed if you acquire too much stuff.

This morning I was sent over the edge by a commercial which assured you that Petsmart "has hundreds of gifts that your pet will love".  Really?!????!??  Has the celebration of the nativity of our dear Lord and Savior come to this? 

I am thinking that it might take some effort for me stay in the Christmas spirit this year.

Michael Vick is a Jerk and So Are His Sponsors

Michael Vick has been reinstated to the NFL with a multi-million dollar paycheck after being convicted of promoting dog fighting, among other crimes.  The Philadelphia Eagles have welcomed him with open arms (and an open wallet).  I don't follow sports, but I find this appalling.  Is Michael Vick such a singularly talented man that there was no other player available for the position?  I doubt it.  Evidently the Eagles organization is looking to cultivate a fan base of sociopaths.  In addition to promoting unspeakable cruelty to dogs (with an additional perjury charge), he was fined by the NFL for saluting the fans in a packed stadium with obscene gestures when he was boo'd by the crowd. 

Here is a partial list of corporate sponsors of the Philadelphia Eagles:  Snapple, Staples, Tasty Cake, Dunkin' Donuts, and Pepsico (which owns Quaker, Gatorade and Tropicana).  I am sickened at the thought that Michael Vick is being supported by these brands. I plan to boycott these products until Michael Vick is no longer on the team.

 

 

What is Elizabeth Edwards' Agenda?

I feel as though I have a fairly good ability to view things from another person's perspective.  I can't, however, for the life of me figure out what Elizabeth Edwards is trying to accomplish with her current media blitz to peddle her latest book. 

Everyone on this earth has a finite number of days to live.  Sadly, Elizabeth's stage IV cancer lets us presume that the time she has left is going to be more limited than anyone would wish.  Given that cruel fact, I am puzzled at how Elizabeth is choosing to use her limited time and energy. I am further perplexed that she is leaving a trail of recorded interviews that will become part of the catalog of memories with which her two younger children will be left.

They will see a woman who coyly refuses that the other woman's name not be mentioned in her presence.  Her explanation of why she insists on this boils down to Elizabeth's strong feeling that the woman her husband slept with is too far down the socio-economic scale to deserve a name.  (The other woman's name is, ironic as it may seem, is Ms. Hunter).  Elizabeth's manner indicated that she feels Ms. Hunter should shoulder most of the blame for her husband's dalliance.

The part of the interview that made me suspect that Elizabeth has a cruel streak in her was when Oprah inquired whether or not  Ms. Hunter's baby daughter might be the child of John Edwards.  Elizabeth referred to the infant, whose name is Frances, as "it", as in "it has nothing to do with my life whether or not it is John's biological child".  Hmmm... seems to me that although the child was born out of wedlock, she would still be the half-sibling of the legally recognized Edwards children.  If the anticipated paternity tests reveal what we all suspect is the truth anyway, Baby Frances will be entitled to her fair portion of the Edwards' substantial fortune.

John Edwards, the man of the hour, was skulking around the monstrously huge home in which he continues to reside in his wife.  He gave the camera a martyred look as Oprah threw marshmallow-covered questions his way.  The modern equivalent, I suppose, to being pilloried in the public square of old.  Again, I think having an unfading video record of this chapter in the Edwards family history is an odd legacy for Elizabeth to leave her children.

Not satisfied with airing only the dirty laundry of the current generation, Elizabeth made sure the world will be left an account of the infidelities she suspects her father perpetrated decades ago.  I am at a loss to even guess what she feels is to be gained by that revelation.

I truly don't know how I would carry myself if I had been dealt the cards Elizabeth Edwards has received in her life.  Losing her teenage son undoubtedly played a great part in forming the woman we see today.  Having an unfaithful spouse had to be beyond devastating.  Fighting so hard to recover from cancer only to be given the bitter news that it has returned with no hope for a cure must have caused her to do some deep soul searching.  I believe that Elizabeth stated something about realigning her priorities in light of this prognosis.

So... I just can't figure it out.  Why is this the choice she is making at this point in her life?  She is certainly entitled to scream and rant and make a few fist-shaped holes in the wall, but these acts should take place privately.  One of the statements Elizabeth has made indicated that she does not want to define herself  as a wronged wife.  Why, oh, why is she setting up an irreversible situation in which her two youngest children, 11 and 8 years old, will have to define themselves as the offspring of a cheating father and a wounded, cuckolded mother?  I hope after her book tour she returns home and spends her time holding tight to her children who need her presence and that she finds some solace in them.

The Times They are a'Changin'

  Happy Election Day!  God bless America.

News from the North

  Monday was Canadian Thanksgiving.  Our neighbors have a different spin on the whole thing - no pilgrims, no Indians, just thanks for a bountiful harvest.  It has a long history, for some time it was linked with Rememberance Day (our Veteran's Day).  The second Monday in October was established in the 1950's. Being further north, their harvest occurs somewhat earlier than ours.  If my sources are correct, it isn't celebrated in all the provinces.  Anyhoo... the menu is basically the same as Americans will be enjoying in a few short weeks.

Today is a big day on its own.  It is Election Day in Canada.  I'll be checking in to watch television coverage tonight.  Although I am about ten minutes from the border, there has been nary a mention of it in the local papers or on local news.  Now, here's the idea I like.  The whole election process in Canada takes place over about six weeks.  I love that.  It seems to me that this election started two years ago, and I am just a casual observer.  I wish we could adopt this policy!

Michaelmas

Today is Michaelmas.  It is one of the English quarter days when rents were paid and legal proceedings were settled.  More importantly to me, it is the day to take time to reflect.  Michaelmas is the beginnning of the time of year to gather the courage needed for the long, dark days ahead.  It's a time to be grateful for the warmth and shelter out homes provide. Michael the Archangel is often portrayed as a strong, handsome man throwing the devil out of paradise.                

There are a few traditions associated with this feast.  In the past, this was the day to cook a fat goose.  Bonfires were lit to help folks celebrate the heat and light which will be receding as winter draws near. 

According to an old Irish folk tale, blackberries were supposed to have been harvested and used up by this date, too, since it is told to children that when Satan was kicked out of Heaven, he landed in a bramble patch -- and returns each year to curse and spit on the fruits of the plant he landed on, rendering them inedible thereafter.  My little commemoration of the day will be a store-bought strudel which has apples and blackberries in it.  I'll also be burning some candles to fend off the darkness.  Just by chance, this year the feast falls when the moon is in the dark phase. 

Here's a picture of a Michaelmas Daisy, also called the New York aster.  They grow wild around here - a very pretty roadside flower.  For romantics, this was the original daisy young girls would pluck the petals from, one at a time to find out if indeed "He loves me, he loves me not".  Here's a verse to go with the flower:

The Michaelmas daisy, among dead weeds
Blooms for St Michael's valorous deeds

My Friend Judy

  Today I attended the wake of my friend Judy.  She died of colon cancer.  Please, please, please get a colonoscopy if you are 50 or older.  It could make all the difference.

Judy was a lovely person whom I will remember for her creativity, sense of humor and warmth.  She leaves a husband who was utterly devoted to her.  This picture was taken at the Erie County Fair last month.  Judy and her husband Ron raised llamas and showed them at the fair each year.  She and Ron sometimes came to Raveloe's knitting night.  She will be missed by each person in the group.

Happy Birthday Helen

  My first cousin once removed had a birthday celebration on Saturday.  She's 90 years old.  Before she blew out the candles on her cake (with the help of some great-grandchildren) she told the assembled group of friends and family that the only part of her that feels 90 is her knee.

Helen is really a role model for growing old gracefully.  Since her retirement as a school administrator, she has traveled extensively and remained active as a volunteer in several organizations. 

Goodbye Marlene

 My neighbor passed away.  Her funeral was Saturday morning.  It was a very nice service, the nicest part being the eulogy given by her son.  One story he told which moved me was about a time when his mother stayed for awhile in New York City.  She was saddened when she saw the homeless people in the neighborhood.  She started to make a trip to the local grocery store each day.  On the walk home she would "accidentally" drop a bag of groceries in front of some poor soul who needed help.  That act embodied who she was.  May she rest in peace.

This Lady Inspires Me

I just read the story of Beatrice Muller.  She's 89 years old and has lived for the past nine years on the ocean liner Queen Elizabeth II.  She did the math, and at $7,000.00 a month, it compares to the cost of living in a so-so nursing home in Florida.  She's currently looking for new digs because the QEII is being retired.  I hope she finds a new home soon.  Read more here.