A Place in the World (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

What do you get when two Leo women delay their Instant Gratification selves and *finally* come together for a co-celebratory birthday lunch? - a 3 1/2 hour yak-, sob- and empa-thon, fueled by multiple glasses of wine, more than a few heartaches/breaks and stories, stories to tell!

I appreciate M for so many reasons... but especially for being a "forever friend" - we experienced our first clicks in March 1997... and have run parallel, perpendicular, intersected and tangential throughout the last 11 years, remaining committed to the choice of staying connected, even when we drift.

Yesterday we conversed non-stop about our children, our partners, our mothers' health, our own physical/emotional/spiritual well-being, our jobs (or lack of, in my case), her cat's passing, my dog's old age, ancient history and present times - it was refreshing, it was empowering, it was much-needed and long-overdue... :-)

Thanks, M, for the perfect card, the gorgeous windchimes and for always being there - I cherish the fact you are a sounding-board, a touchstone and a foundation in my life... <3

SONG: A Place in the World by Mary Chapin Carpenter

BOOK: The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World by Eric Weiner

POEM: Logos by Mary Oliver

Why wonder about the loaves and the fishes?
If you say the right words, the wine expands.
If you say them with love
and the felt ferocity of that love
and the felt necessity of that love,
the fish explode into the many.
Imagine him, speaking,
and don't worry about what is reality,
or what is plain, or what is mysterious.
If you were there, it was all those things.
If you can imagine it, it was all those things.
Eat, drink, be happy.
Accept the miracle.
Accept, too, each spoken word
spoken with love.

QUOTE: "We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures." ~ Thornton Wilder

Thanksgiving Eve (Bob Franke)

On the fourth Thursday in November, Thanksgiving Day, Americans express gratitude for their good fortune. The American Thanksgiving tradition originated with the Pilgrims. As early as 1621, the Puritan colonists of Plymouth, Massachusetts set aside a day of thanks for a bountiful harvest. On October 3, 1789, President George Washington proclaimed the 26th of that November the first national Thanksgiving Day under the Constitution.

On October 3, 1863, in the wake of victory at Gettysburg, President Abraham Lincoln decided to issue a Thanksgiving Proclamation declaring the last Thursday in November national Thanksgiving Day. In 1941 Congress made it official.

On Thanksgiving Day in 1876, The American Intercollegiate Football Association held its first championship game. The sport resembled something of a cross between rugby and modern-day football, but the tradition of playing football on Thanksgiving Day developed with the evolution of the sport itself.

The first Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade was in 1924. In the 1920's many of Macy's department store employees were first-generation immigrants. Proud of their new American heritage, they wanted to celebrate the holiday with the type of festival they loved in Europe. The employees marched from 145 Street down to 34th Street dressed as clowns, sheiks, knights and cowboys. There were floats, professional bands and 25 live animals borrowed from the Central Park Zoo. With an audience of over a quarter of a million people, the parade was a success.

Large helium balloons first appeared in 1927 with Felix the Cat. It became tradition to release the balloons after the parade. The balloons would float for days and the lucky finder could claim a reward at Macy's. In 1933, a student pilot stalled her engine over Jamaica Bay trying to snag a cat balloon, and two tugboats in the East River tore apart a dachshund balloon. After a few more close calls, the practice of releasing the balloons came to an end.

SONG: Thanksgiving Eve by Bob Franke

BOOK: The Thanksgiving Ceremony: New Traditions for America's Family Feast by Edward Bleier

POEM: Thanksgiving by Lynn Ungar

I have been trying to read
the script cut in these hills—
a language carved in the shimmer of stubble
and the solid lines of soil, spoken
in the thud of apples falling
and the rasp of corn stalks finally bare.

The pheasants shout it with a rusty creak
as they gather in the fallen grain,
the blackbirds sing it
over their shoulders in parting,
and gold leaf illuminates the manuscript
where it is written in the trees.

Transcribed onto my human tongue
I believe it might sound like a lullaby,
or the simplest grace at table.
Across the gathering stillness
simply this: "For all that we have received,
dear God, make us truly grateful."

QUOTE: "We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures." ~ Thornton Wilder

Nightswimming (R.E.M.)

SONG: Nightswimming by R.E.M.

BOOK: Our Town: A Play in Three Acts by Thornton Wilder

POEM: The Dreams of the Old by Timothy J. Nolan

So they are around our table—my mother,

my father, an uncle—and we begin to talk

about our dreams—with some urgency—

as if our dreams could pinpoint our psychic

dangers—our unrealized goals—our

ordinary fear of death and the future.

My mother talks about her dreams of flying

over the little town where she grew up—

over the old Opera House—down Main Street—

with all the people she knew below her—

then towards the gently flowing river—

that seemed to flow into the sunset—

toward which she soared—she lingered

with us on that image—as if she had said

enough—then—my uncle talked about

his recurring dream—he's going to be

in a play—but no one's bothered

to rehearse the scenes—he's standing

in the wings waiting to go on—he doesn't

know what he will say—all through this

my father is silent—he is closest to death—

we all know this—we forgive him his silence—

his silence—has his presence—as in a dream.

QUOTE: "Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens." ~ Carl Jung