Thanksgiving Unfolds

Thanksgiving is such a family-oriented holiday that I'll bet a lot of people can't imagine spending it alone. I've spent it both ways, and while it's great to be with other people, there are compensations to going solo that you may not have thought of. You can set the menu and have only the things you like; you can decide on the spur of the moment to have dinner in the evening, by candlelight, instead of in the afternoon; and there's no pressure to have everything done properly or on schedule. Someone seemed surprised the other day when I said I always cook on Thanksgiving, rain or shine, but to me that's the only part that's non-negotiable. Thanksgiving is about eating.

My holiday today unfolded in a leisurely way, though the menu was pre-planned and I had already been shopping. I made my pie last night, and again this year, I went with something I haven't had before. I have a recipe for something called "Colonial Innkeeper's Pie" that sounded like it would stand up to a few days in the refrigerator (something you have to think about if you're the only one eating it). It was a little more labor-intensive than just mixing up custard or fruit filling and putting it in a crust, but in a fun way. I was unsure what it would taste like, but any recipe that includes "And then pour chocolate over everything" as one of the final steps is bound to be worth the time.

If I'd thought about it, I would have made a pitcher of iced tea last night, but I got sidetracked by an impromptu oven cleaning session once the pie was baked. No problem. I made cranberry relish this afternoon and then made the tea while the relish was cooling on the stove. I even got a walk in after that, and it was pleasant in a mild, damp sort of way. Not many people out, but there were drifting leaves and birds singing here and there and all those autumn colors. Once I got back, I put the turkey in and started slicing potatoes and getting the other side dishes ready. About halfway through the turkey cooking time, I put the potatoes in the oven so that they and the turkey would be finished at the same time. That's about it except for setting the table and lighting the candles.

By now you're probably asleep, but believe me, if I could make it sound more exciting, I would. I'm sure nobody wants to talk about politics, and I heard that people who were planning family visits were coming up with strategies to avoid such discussions today in light of the contentious election season we've had. I'm with them on that. I neither read nor listened to any news today other than looking at a few headlines a little while ago after getting online. I thought about how to season the turkey, what to add to the dressing, and whether to have lima beans or peas, and that was it. I wasn't in a hurry but had things planned in my mind, and it all turned out well.

Well, you may be wondering, did you at least have any kind of a theme going, since you're a mythologist? The truth is, no, I didn't. I don't even have any Thanksgiving decor to speak of, except for a single glass goblet with autumn leaves on it that I used for my iced tea. I thought about hauling out my ceramic Halloween pumpkin and turning it backwards, but that hardly seemed worth the time; I considered gathering some autumn leaves and putting them in a vase, but it was too damp out. I do cook my turkey in a clay pot that kind of resembles something that might be found in the ruins of Pompeii and adds a slightly incongruous note to a Pilgrim meal, but that's about it. I hauled a small art glass lamp into the kitchen to supplement the candlelight and put on some quiet music, including a CD of medieval banquet music by the Newberry Consort.

You're wondering now about the pie. Well, it was very good, though different from what I was expecting, being more like a cake in a pie crust than a traditional pie. It was unusual and quite delicious--as was everything. I'm not sure if it's really similar to something a colonial innkeeper would have served; I tend to think chocolate may have been a luxury in those days and not something an innkeeper would have used as a matter of course, but I could be wrong. I'm not sure how much my meal resembled something the colonists would have eaten in any respect, but it doesn't matter. Enjoying what you have is what matters.

I did the dishes in stages, am still enjoying some music on the stereo, and have put my leftovers away. Not a single political argument to be had, I didn't have to watch football on TV, and no one offended me by not eating enough. That's it for Thanksgiving on my end, and I wish all you Pilgrims out there a happy holiday, wherever you may be.

What's Hubris Again?

Here in post-election America, life goes on, as it usually does, and Starbucks is filled with just as many earnest conversations conducted at ear-splitting levels as it was before. I don't know what compels people to believe that what they have to say is So Vitally Important as to override the rules of common civility, but there it is: that's what ear plugs are for. I've made liberal use of mine lately.

Even with all the hubbub at the coffeehouse this afternoon, I finished the book I was reading, Thomas Moore's The Soul's Religion, which I've been reading off and on for a while now. One of the book's themes is the author's idea of the importance of bringing religion and secular life together--not in the sense of imbuing society with the trappings of any particular faith but by way of encouraging people to cultivate a sense of connection to "all of life" through ordinary, purposeful living. In other words, the way to the sacred lies in everyday life.

Mr. Moore describes his complex relationship to Catholicism and his sense that organized religion best serves as a backup to a profoundly individual exploration of soul and spirituality. He touches several times on the point that institutions dedicated to serving people's spiritual needs are no more immune to hubris and misuse than any other endeavor; in fact, they have their own particular problems with overreach and abuse of power. I think Mr. Moore has more faith than I do in the positive effects of shared, communal religion, but he clearly sees the connection between over-reliance on authority and loss of authenticity and self-determination. He points out the special hazards that passive submission to institutional agents, strictures, and systems of belief can bring--spiritual leaders have their own brand of bullying that relies on people's faith to take advantage of them.

This discussion of the need to question the motives, methods, and effects of religious authority is important. I think it extends to all institutions, whether they are political, educational, medical, governmental, financial, or otherwise. Believing that matters affecting you are too complex for you to understand and that therefore someone else must know better is giving someone else too much power. Our society is set up to require participation from citizens. The ability to even form an opinion in the first place requires you to stay informed at at least a minimal level.

It may seem ironic that having said all this (and actually believing it), I was unable to pick a presidential candidate in this year's election, but not making a choice is also a decision. I'm familiar with the idea that it's often necessary to hold your nose and push one button or the other, but I have more sympathy now with the notion of withholding support as also being a powerful choice. Being uncommitted at the polls in no way negates the other citizen obligations of staying informed and holding those in power accountable.

I tend to distrust institutions, despite knowing that they're necessary and can accomplish good things. Big institutions accrue power, and power corrupts, as Lord Acton has told us. I'm often sorry to see someone I admire throw their hat into presidential politics because I think it takes an exceptional person to resist the temptations of the office (the same thing is true of all positions of high authority, of course, from senators to Cabinet officials). I think our system of government is a pretty good one, but as our country has grown from a young upstart into the most powerful nation in the world, the power it wields has grown exponentially, and the need to find the best people we can to wield that power is more important than it ever was. Not that we always succeed, or should expect that we will.

To go back to Mr. Moore's discussion of the Church, it's instructive to consider how a movement that began so simply, with one man who influenced others profoundly with his teachings, has grown into a huge hierarchy of enormous wealth, tremendous spiritual authority, and great temporal power. People will argue that such a structure is necessary to administer the Church's activities around the world, and that may be, but I'm always struck by the profound difference between what it started out to be and what it is now. There's something in the enormity of the institution that seems to work against the simplicity of the original teachings. If it essentially boils down to "Do Unto Others," then what's all the pomp and circumstance for?

Likewise, our government: It's "We, the people," right? I understand that we give symbolic weight to the rituals, procedures, ceremonies, buildings, and other accoutrements of our governmental institutions because they represent our society's important ideals, and I'm OK with that. A great idea like democratic society deserves a good display. But the display is never more important than the thing itself, and institutions that don't serve their purpose shouldn't be respected just because they wear the face of respectability. Are they living up to their ideals, more or less? That's all I want to know.

Speaking for myself, it's a relief to be done with robocalls, yard signs, and opinion masquerading as news (actually, I guess we're never free of that). The outcome has resulted in protests and a renewed discussion of the Electoral College, which is all to the good. The election itself was only the beginning of something new, and it ushered in at least one significant change: the president-elect has never held political office, and although he has headed a powerful organization, he's coming from the world of business (and entertainment), not the world of government. Many people have been wanting a change like this for a long time, even if Mr. Trump wouldn't have been their first choice, and it will be interesting to see how a business leader takes on the office of president. One thing you can say about Mr. Trump: he knows how to take center stage.

After the Deluge

I'm writing a short post this week, because the only possible topic is the just-concluded presidential election, and I don't really want to write about it. A lot of people are still sorting through recent events, and I include myself in that number. After following the election closely for many months and reading news from a variety of different sources, trying hard to assess all the candidates, I found I was no more able to make a choice on Tuesday than I would have been a year and a half ago. I considered and re-considered Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Trump from many angles and decided in the end to refrain from voting; that is, I did vote, but it was only to turn in a blank ballot.

I know that adherents of both candidates have strong feelings about their party's standard-bearer; judging from the popular vote, about half of Americans are feeling very relieved and the other half very anxious right now. I have been quite critical of Mrs. Clinton in the past and found in the end that I still could not get past the trust issues I had with her. With Mr. Trump, I have been alternately bemused, bewildered, and annoyed, never able to decide for sure what his motivations might be but feeling that there was more to the situation than met the eye. To this date, I still don't have any answers to the riddle of Mr. Trump.

No theologian could have sorted--with a fine-tooth comb--the number of angels dancing on the head of a pin with more attention than I've paid to the political news. I made tentative assumptions, some of which were unorthodox, about nearly all of the candidates, or at least the major ones. I found that in some cases, while people seemed to be saying all the right things, I doubted their sincerity; in other cases, where I disagreed with people's positions, I liked them better as people. Apparently, this puts me in approximately the same situation as many other Americans, who either crossed party lines or voted reluctantly for one person simply because they disliked someone else much more.

I congratulate everyone who was able to make a choice; you're one up on me. I found that no matter how much I tried to account for the filters through which I was viewing information, I still couldn't come to a definite conclusion. The only thing I'm sure of is that a certain amount of skepticism is a healthy thing, even if you do manage to make a choice. I'm not saying that not making a choice is better. Obviously, someone has to be elected. Everyone, however, has to vote his or her conscience, and mine simply would not let me land on either side.

Candy Corn Tea Candle

So Halloween has come and gone already, along with All Saints' and All Souls' days. Last year, I wrote about my perception that Halloween is largely centered on children in the United States and that adults, unless they like costume parties, are mostly relegated to the sidelines. Now, you may be thinking, "Well, she doesn't have kids, but she does have a mythology degree, so she probably does something spectacular like research hauntings or attend storytelling sessions in graveyards."

Here's what I actually did: I spent this Halloween much as I normally do, with maybe a tiny bit more flair. I'd been having so much fun with Halloween baking that I was inspired to decorate, too, which consisted of hunting down the little ceramic jack o'lantern I have in my kitchen cabinet and installing in it a candy corn-scented tea candle (bought on sale for 50 cents at the grocery store, and a bargain, too, because it still hasn't burned out).

The biggest quandary that night concerned my evening walk. It was a mild, summery day, and I was torn between a wish to soak up some late afternoon sun and an interest in waiting a little later to see the neighborhood's Halloween lights to better advantage. I ended up going earlier rather than later, deciding it was better to leave the sidewalks to the trick-or-treaters who would probably be emerging around six o'clock. As it was, I encountered one early group of tots in full regalia shepherded by several adults, which brought back memories of how much fun I had at that age. While I'm sure I wasn't having as exciting a time as they were, I was pretty happy just to be walking around on such a splendid evening, under a golden sky and trees on fire with yellow and orange leaves.

Then I had monkey bread for dinner. This is an autumnal delicacy that consists of sausage, cooked apples, cheddar cheese, and diced-up biscuit dough all tumbled together; it reminds me of a party appetizer a friend used to make, except that it's a main dish (I had vegetables, too, like a responsible adult). After dinner, I took a glass of milk and a plate of cookies to the living room, lit the tea candle, and turned on the stereo. I don't have any Halloween music, but I mixed some classical and folk music together. I have Vivaldi's The Four Seasons and I have Tchaikovsky, and though the Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture has nothing to do with Halloween, it's passionate and fiery and seemed to set the right tone. I also lit a candle in my metal candle holder with the crescent moon and star cutouts (bought years ago in a North Carolina mountain town). I have a few battery-operated candles, too, and turned some of those on so that I was sitting partly in lamplight and partly in candlelight. When the music was finished, I went to bed.

All in all, it was a pleasant evening. If you're wondering where the extra flair came in, I would say it was probably in even thinking to put candles out and in trying for a little atmospheric music, in small touches of Halloween spirit rather than in trying to go all out. As an adult, I've been to costume parties and corn mazes and even to a haunted house (once, in college). I have never found that any of those activities measured up to the fun of Halloween in childhood, so I'm content to leave the field to the kids. As long as they're happy, I'm happy.