MIDDLE SCHOOL STUDENTS PEALING POTATOES AND MAKING STUFFING FOR THE THANKSGIVING MEALS DONATED TO COMPASS HOUSE
---
Thanksgiving 2008
Thanksgiving is both a time for personal reflection and a communal opportunity. As a shared holiday, the day has a complex history that should be examined from multiple perspectives. In its earliest origins it can be seen as an extension of traditional native celebrations of thanksgiving to the Creator; and it can be seen as a treaty celebrated between Wampanoags and pilgrims who were thankful for the sustaining knowledge that they had received; and, regrettably, it can be seen as a historical inflection point that marks the beginning of the demise of indigenous peoples and the rise of the Europeans who supplanted them.
Later in our national history, the day of Thanksgiving provided our forbearers an opportunity to focus on all that they held in common as a people. President Lincoln used this to great effect during the Civil War, elevating the day to a national holiday and calling on a fractured nation to pause, reflect, and hold itself together in the eyes of the rest of the world. In 1939, during the Great Depression, President Roosevelt moved Thanksgiving up a week to provide a longer period of holiday shopping in an attempt to stimulate the economy.
I am sure the older folks in the room can appreciate the parallels between these points in our history and today, and I want to close this assembly with an excerpt from a poem called "The Volunteer's Thanksgiving," written by Lucy Larcom in the 19th century. The poem describes a young Union soldier during the Civil War, not much older than some of us in the room, who is celebrating his Thanksgiving on a Southern battlefield, and is very much missing his family in the North.
If you close your eyes you might be able to imagine him thinking about his far away family, as he sit in a strange land…
They 're sitting at the table this clear Thanksgiving noon;
I smell the crispy turkey, the pies will come in soon,--
The golden squares of pumpkin, the flaky rounds of mince,
Behind the barberry syrups, the cranberry and the quince.
Be sure my mouth does water,--but then I am content
To stay and do the errand on which I have been sent.
A soldier must n't grumble at salt beef and hard-tack:
We 'll have a grand Thanksgiving if ever we get back!
I 'm very sure they 'll miss me at dinner-time to-day,
For I was good at stowing their provender away.
When mother clears the table, and wipes the platters bright,
She 'll say, "I hope my baby don't lose his appetite!"
O dear! the air grows sultry: I 'd wish myself at home
Were it a whit less noble, the cause for which I 've come.
Four years ago a school-boy; as foolish now as then!
But greatly they don't differ, I fancy,--boys and men.
I 'm just nineteen to-morrow, and I shall surely stay
For Freedom's final battle, be it until I 'm gray,
Unless a Southern bullet should take me off my feet.--
There 's nothing left to live for, if Rebeldom should beat;
For home and love and honor and freedom are at stake,
And life may well be given for our dear Union's sake;
So reads the Proclamation, and so the sermon ran;
Do ministers and people feel it as soldiers can?
When will it all be ended? 'T is not in youth to hold
In quietness and patience, like people grave and old:
A year? three? four? or seven?--O then, when I return,
Put on a big log, mother, and let it blaze and burn,
And roast your fattest turkey, bake all the pies you can,
And, if she is n't married, invite in Mary Ann!
Hang flags from every window! we 'll all be glad and gay,
For Peace will light the country on that Thanksgiving Day.
Soon after this was written, peace did indeed return to the country, and I wish us all this same peace as we leave today to enjoy our family celebrations.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all.
---
Thanksgiving 2008
Thanksgiving is both a time for personal reflection and a communal opportunity. As a shared holiday, the day has a complex history that should be examined from multiple perspectives. In its earliest origins it can be seen as an extension of traditional native celebrations of thanksgiving to the Creator; and it can be seen as a treaty celebrated between Wampanoags and pilgrims who were thankful for the sustaining knowledge that they had received; and, regrettably, it can be seen as a historical inflection point that marks the beginning of the demise of indigenous peoples and the rise of the Europeans who supplanted them.
Later in our national history, the day of Thanksgiving provided our forbearers an opportunity to focus on all that they held in common as a people. President Lincoln used this to great effect during the Civil War, elevating the day to a national holiday and calling on a fractured nation to pause, reflect, and hold itself together in the eyes of the rest of the world. In 1939, during the Great Depression, President Roosevelt moved Thanksgiving up a week to provide a longer period of holiday shopping in an attempt to stimulate the economy.
I am sure the older folks in the room can appreciate the parallels between these points in our history and today, and I want to close this assembly with an excerpt from a poem called "The Volunteer's Thanksgiving," written by Lucy Larcom in the 19th century. The poem describes a young Union soldier during the Civil War, not much older than some of us in the room, who is celebrating his Thanksgiving on a Southern battlefield, and is very much missing his family in the North.
If you close your eyes you might be able to imagine him thinking about his far away family, as he sit in a strange land…
They 're sitting at the table this clear Thanksgiving noon;
I smell the crispy turkey, the pies will come in soon,--
The golden squares of pumpkin, the flaky rounds of mince,
Behind the barberry syrups, the cranberry and the quince.
Be sure my mouth does water,--but then I am content
To stay and do the errand on which I have been sent.
A soldier must n't grumble at salt beef and hard-tack:
We 'll have a grand Thanksgiving if ever we get back!
I 'm very sure they 'll miss me at dinner-time to-day,
For I was good at stowing their provender away.
When mother clears the table, and wipes the platters bright,
She 'll say, "I hope my baby don't lose his appetite!"
O dear! the air grows sultry: I 'd wish myself at home
Were it a whit less noble, the cause for which I 've come.
Four years ago a school-boy; as foolish now as then!
But greatly they don't differ, I fancy,--boys and men.
I 'm just nineteen to-morrow, and I shall surely stay
For Freedom's final battle, be it until I 'm gray,
Unless a Southern bullet should take me off my feet.--
There 's nothing left to live for, if Rebeldom should beat;
For home and love and honor and freedom are at stake,
And life may well be given for our dear Union's sake;
So reads the Proclamation, and so the sermon ran;
Do ministers and people feel it as soldiers can?
When will it all be ended? 'T is not in youth to hold
In quietness and patience, like people grave and old:
A year? three? four? or seven?--O then, when I return,
Put on a big log, mother, and let it blaze and burn,
And roast your fattest turkey, bake all the pies you can,
And, if she is n't married, invite in Mary Ann!
Hang flags from every window! we 'll all be glad and gay,
For Peace will light the country on that Thanksgiving Day.
Soon after this was written, peace did indeed return to the country, and I wish us all this same peace as we leave today to enjoy our family celebrations.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all.
No comments:
Post a Comment