The Finch Formerly Known As Gold

25 November 2004

Notes for a Thanksgiving Day

The really nice thing about this day, of course, was that I didn't actually roll out of bed until a quarter to ten, which, while hardly a record, is the sort of thing that appeals to my less-industrious nature. Besides, I was up late — I am never up late on Wednesday night — watching, of all things, C-Span. It was the Claremont Institute's annual Winston Churchill Dinner, taped last Friday, with an address by Rush Limbaugh, who won the Institute's Statesmanship Award this year. And Rush was in top form, the bombast dialed back, the optimism clearly radiating. Yes, he was among friends, and no one was going to ask him any uncomfortable questions, but it was good to hear him in a positive mode, freed from the need to denounce things, even the things that need denouncing. (Which, among other reasons, is why he's a major player in the media revolution, while I languish down here in the backwaters; I don't do positive as well as I do negative, and hardly anyone does negative as effectively as Rush.)

It occurs to me that Thanksgiving Day is a conservative sort of holiday, anyway: a return, however brief, to the days when family came first, and there was some sort of acknowledgment that all this bounty came from somewhere.

I am fifty-one years old today, and if anyone had a reason to give thanks, 'tis I, if only because I'd never expected to reach the point where I could say something like "I am fifty-one years old today." While I mock my lowly position in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that long ago that I was bewailing it; by any reasonable standards, this must be considered an improvement. And while I still yearn, perhaps excessively, for what I don't have, I have learned how to be thankful for what I do have.

By some strange coincidence, "When I Was Young" has spooled up on the CD changer. Eric Burdon is mourning:

When I was young it was more important,
Pain more painful, laughter much louder, yeah.

Forty or so years after the fact, I find myself disagreeing. Pain is just pain; but laughter is what gets me through the day, and the louder, the better.

Thanks for stopping by.

Posted at 11:25 AM to General Disinterest


I heard a few minutes of Rush the other day on the radio and thought he was sounding remarkably happy and positive.

Happy Birthday and Thanksgiving Charles!

Posted by: Dan at 11:55 AM on 25 November 2004

Happy Birthday :)

Posted by: Vickie at 4:22 PM on 25 November 2004

Happy Birthday, Charles, and Happy Thanksgiving, too!

You have me by a single day chronologically, and beyond that in other ways, I'm sure.

BR,
Fritz
/f

Posted by: Fritz Schranck at 9:31 PM on 25 November 2004

Happy Birthday!

Posted by: Donna at 11:00 PM on 25 November 2004

So, let's see. When you were born, Elvis was 18-years-old, biding his time, strumming his guitar, and trying to conjure up the courage to leave Tupelo and go to Memphis. Maybe your paths crossed. Happy Birthday!

Posted by: Interested-Participant at 10:16 AM on 26 November 2004

I doubt I crossed paths with Elvis anywhere along the way, but I definitely know about working up some courage at 18 (which is still an ongoing process).

I did, however, cross paths with Fritz Schranck, who is about 24 hours younger than I. A sterling fellow in a state full of interesting folks. (Everyone should visit Delaware, if only because it's such a weird mélange of New Jersey and North Carolina, all crammed into three counties. Then again, I've been known to say kind things about Cleveland.)

Posted by: CGHill at 10:52 AM on 26 November 2004

Happy B-Day, and at least know, that as far as being significant, the former Fly Over is forever indebted to you.

Besides, do you really want people writing revisionist history books about you 100 years from now?

Posted by: Chris at 10:57 PM on 26 November 2004

I'm essentially forgotten now; why would anyone remember anything about me in 2104, let alone write a book?

Posted by: CGHill at 11:51 PM on 26 November 2004