No Talking Turkey
Shaddap You Face.
Of the many things that have been broken since 2016, the one that infuriates me the most is Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving used to be the one holiday—the one holiday—untrammeled by the outside world.
It seemed bullet-proof. Even when KMart and Target and Walmart jumped the shark by opening in the evening to pre-sell Black Friday, Thanksgiving still held its own.
So, it wasn’t consumerism that brought Thanksgiving to its knees.
It was politics.
No doubt there is an article in your paper/enews of choice1 that will describe how to “negotiate” Thanksgiving—and the Scylla and Charybdis of politic views it will bring to the table.
This, from a holiday where we are supposed to give thanks.
It remains a good holiday in our house. But not what it once was. There will probably be some differing political views at our table, and I am reasonably sure they won’t bleed into division. But simply the fact that I had to write that sentence p-sses me off.
I used to consider Norman Rockwell tragically unhip.
All that small-town stuff about barber shops and doctors who made house calls and Boy Scouts.
We moved, now more than a decade ago, to a town adjacent to the town most associated with Rockwell: Stockbridge, Massachusetts. And we became members at the Norman Rockwell Museum. The original impulse for this wasn’t philanthropic; it was practical. Living in the Berkshires, friends and relatives visit throughout the year. The Norman Rockwell Museum, with our membership that admits two guests in addition to us, was a go-to rainy afternoon venue.
But over time, as I came to know Rockwell better, through programs and special exhibits, the more I appreciated what he did. I’m not qualified enough in art criticism to offer an opinion on his work. But I do know that, standing in the room where his Four Freedoms are hung—Freedom From Want, Freedom of Speech, Freedom From Fear, and Freedom of Worship—I do get a tingle up my spine.2
I think all those culture warriors who want to take us back to the 1950s are off by a decade or more.
They should go back to 1943, specifically February and March of 1943, when Rockwell’s Four Freedoms appeared, one each week, on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post.
World War II was still a jump ball. The Fascists had been defeated at Stalingrad, the allies were about to win at Guadalcanal. But only the most prescient could see this as the tipping point. To the readers of the Saturday Evening Post, the thing that mattered most, probably, was that the Atlantic Ocean separated us from Europe and the Pacific Ocean separated us from Japan.
Now, to be sure, Rockwell’s vision of America in 1943 bears little resemblance to America today. It would be hard to find anything this side of Wonder Bread that is whiter than the people in these painting.
How do we deal with this?
America, the United States, is a country built on a promise. That promise has been flagrantly and abjectly disregarded at times. And at other times, the American Dream has actually worked. We have a mixed track record that requires us to acknowledge that and try to do better. Not to bury it, not to change the narrative, but to try to do better.
And here, Rockwell serves as an example.
Rockwell went on, as his career developed, to be a social critic. His Golden Rule (1961), The Problem We All Live With (six-year-old, African-American Ruby Bridges being escorted by U.S. marshals to school in New Orlean remain searingly powerful.
He tried to do better, and he did.
But the real point is: why go back at all?
To quote the eminent philosopher, William Martin Joel:
‘Cause the good ole days weren’t
Always good
And tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems3
This, too, shall pass.
Just not quickly enough.
The Christmas tree for Rockefeller Center, a 74-foot Norway spruce, came from just down the road from us in West Stockbridge.
This was a BIG DEAL out here, and brought in camera crews and, apparently, a couple from Denmark. Since it happened starting at 5:00 in the a.m., I chose bed over bedlam.
But it did get me thinking about the very first line in Joni Mitchell’s “River.”
Thank you for reading! Apologies in advance for typos. (I am a dyslexic proofreader!)
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See Fortune: Tips for a smooth Thanksgiving
Every one of those, to one degree or another, is now under assault.
“Keeping The Faith” from An Innocent Man
Back at ya, Cathy. Have a great Thanksgiving. And let's not forget, there WILL BE PIE—no matter what happens.
Hey, I saw that tree in Rockefeller Center just last weekend--it's still dressed only in scaffolding, but it's still a beauty! Have a great Thanksgiving and I pray the political talk gets tossed out with the giblets--at your house and mine!