No, there is no release of such a film anytime soon, but perhaps it's time for one. It seems to me that the meaning of Thanksgiving is being forgotten, undermined, and slowly buried. Here are five ways this is happening:
1. The recent appearance of "Thanksgivingclapback" memes. I think these memes are divisive and instead of getting people thinking about the true meaning of Thanksgiving, they subtly encourage people to think negatively of others. I get it, maybe your family is full of nosy, overbearing jerks and you're not looking forward to the cruel comments they have for you. However, instead of thinking about how to score one on these jerks: think about what you have to be grateful for instead. And if you really have a problem with someone, take them aside and address it.
2. Gluttony. Nothing wrong with enjoying a good meal. However, there's been an undertone ever since I can remember that this is national pig-out day, mainly heard in conversation from the adults around me and phrases like, "gobble til you wobble."
3. "Happy Turkey Day." This phrase take the emphasis off from the real purpose of the holiday (to give thanks) and shifts it too the eating of turkey. (A "poulty" thing to celebrate in comparison.)
4. Black Friday. I don't think Black Friday is necessarily a bad thing. It brings many businesses back into the black, plus people are able to buy more for their dollar on that day. However, it's being done wrong by many. Some stores start their sales on Thanksgiving and many people turn ugly on Black Friday in total contrast to the day of thankfulness beforehand. It's sad that our country has a holiday that is supposed to be about giving thanks that is followed by a day where people get trampled to death for materialism. How does that reflect on our nation?
5. Early Christmas decorating, music, and sale of Christmas items. I don't want to emphasis Thanksgiving over remembering the birth of Jesus, but the pre-thanksgiving Christmas push is more about making a profit. Plus, is it getting people thinking about the birth of Christ and why he came to this earth? Probably not... Thanksgiving gets glossed over in the Christmas hype and the real meaning of two holidays are lost in consumerism.
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
Tuesday, September 12, 2017
The Balloon Bouquet
I let my imagination run away with me...
The Balloon Bouquet
Once I was a little girl standing in my minty frock and in my hand I held a balloon bouquet. They were all the colors of the rainbow. Red, yellow, green, and purple, blue, and gold; orange, pink, and fuscia. Translucent balloons with an iredescent sheen, and tied with white string. There were so many: I thought these dreams would carry me away. The future seemed so fun and light.
But one by one, I found, as time dragged on, they slowly slipped my grip and floated away.
Others withered as I grew older still. And one or two I released to fly unattainably high in the pale blue sky.
Yet other balloons came my way. Some bright, but more of sombre hues like velvety mists: green, blue, burgundy. My pack was thinning still, and still, these drifted away.
Yet I chose some silver balloons, and some of lighter and darker grays. Then one came. A pink floating heart. With an outstretched white hand, I grasped its string. It came to me so easily. I loved that dream, and yet it slowly faded into gray. Sometimes it would glimmer with pink hue and golden sheen and I would live again those darling memories of you and I and our first times of fun together when we were wondering if we could love each other. I clung to the thread to keep that shadow of what might have been, but that dream too, floated away into a dreary sky, gray on gray, while I cried no tears because I'd cried them already.
And alone I stood with no more. All dreams were gone.
There was no more balloon bouquet.
The Balloon Bouquet
Once I was a little girl standing in my minty frock and in my hand I held a balloon bouquet. They were all the colors of the rainbow. Red, yellow, green, and purple, blue, and gold; orange, pink, and fuscia. Translucent balloons with an iredescent sheen, and tied with white string. There were so many: I thought these dreams would carry me away. The future seemed so fun and light.
But one by one, I found, as time dragged on, they slowly slipped my grip and floated away.
Others withered as I grew older still. And one or two I released to fly unattainably high in the pale blue sky.
Yet other balloons came my way. Some bright, but more of sombre hues like velvety mists: green, blue, burgundy. My pack was thinning still, and still, these drifted away.
Yet I chose some silver balloons, and some of lighter and darker grays. Then one came. A pink floating heart. With an outstretched white hand, I grasped its string. It came to me so easily. I loved that dream, and yet it slowly faded into gray. Sometimes it would glimmer with pink hue and golden sheen and I would live again those darling memories of you and I and our first times of fun together when we were wondering if we could love each other. I clung to the thread to keep that shadow of what might have been, but that dream too, floated away into a dreary sky, gray on gray, while I cried no tears because I'd cried them already.
And alone I stood with no more. All dreams were gone.
There was no more balloon bouquet.
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
Twenty-Seven
Today is my twenty-seventh birthday. And so, I leave you with John Watson's encouraging reflection upon this age.
"She must be seven-and-twenty now,—a sweet age, when youth has lost its self-consciousness and become a little sobered by experience." -Dr. John Watson, reflecting on Mary Morstan (The Sign of Four).
"She must be seven-and-twenty now,—a sweet age, when youth has lost its self-consciousness and become a little sobered by experience." -Dr. John Watson, reflecting on Mary Morstan (The Sign of Four).
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