I do not celebrate the one in November. It’s a fiction, and a secular holiday that really hasn’t much history to boast of. It seems pointless (mostly because my true Summer-ending is in September) and irrational to have one in our region when snow has been on the ground for a couple of months.
Thanksgiving was declared a holiday by Abe Lincoln, back in 1863 because there were so many various holidays in different regions that it was a chaos during autumn into winter, and a woman writer asked for a unification to be called (I forget her name at the moment) and BAM- it has been untouched until 1970 (350th anniversary of the Pilgrims), and into today.
So, on this coming Thursday I’ll probably be eating a tuna-fish or chicken sandwich, and metalworking. Sure, it’s damned nice to have a four day weekend, but the reasoning behind the holiday baffles me. No, I won’t be going to any celebration, because it’s horrifically redundant to me. In my small tradition, it’s done and celebrated. The season has changed. I am not the type to do something because ‘everyone else is doing it,‘ or ‘it’s always been this way,’ because I think, question, and research. Commercials and consumerism will not sway me on that issue, because I do have a deep value of the Sacred. It makes me feel very alien during the holiday season, but I’ve become used to this from extensive living overseas.
If there is no real reason behind it, I find no point in the effort. Besides, I’m more of a wild duck or goose diner, than one for a store-bought turkey. And I’m taking this holiday season to lick my wounds, and recover from horrific tragedy that has struck us in the past three months. To redefine my joys, and reaffirm the ‘why’s,’ to the rest of my tiny tradition. It’ll be a quiet, and hopefully recuperative winter.
Sometimes a bear has to ‘den,’ some winters, ya know?
In fairness, here are some links about Autumn: