We had a glorious Halloween. Surely this holiday makes us all richer. It's like mental training for entrepreneurs. One day, where we institutionally reward becoming someone else, and demonstrate that abundance is yours for the asking. Just as American as the festival of goods that is the main thrust of Christmas.
Most of the stores around here leapt from Halloween decorations to Christmas on November 1st. I think that is a mistake. Yes, they're eager, in the uncertain economy, to encourage the glow of spending. Dropping the practice of appreciating our abundance -- Thanksgiving -- undercuts the value of all goods. Although Thanksgiving sells relatively few goods, it creates satisfaction with the goods one has. Pushing sales without allowing appreciation makes all goods hollow. Without celebrating what we have, we can too easily reach a point where any possession becomes meaningless. Without Thanksgiving, Christmas will suffer a backlash. So, I'd think, that though it generates few sales, it would pay in the long run to recognize Thanksgiving.
I cooked a turkey and a ham for the members of my Amaranth group last Thursday. I didn't know how many people would show up. First guess, twenty people. Next rumor -- forty at most. I had a twenty pound turkey, everyone was bringing sidedishes. As the day approached, with Auditor Vorthys' admonition of "No artificial scarcities" ringing in my inner ears, the desire to add a ham grew. So, the morning of the roasting, I bought a ham. I chose the most beautiful one, rather than the largest or the cheapest. Rinsed the turkey, brushed it with a mixture of olive oil, salt and paprika, set it in my roasting pan, and the pan in the oven -- and discovered I had no room for the ham. Ah, um, oh -- aha! -- I put it in a stainless steel stew pot with a cover, poured in a half inch of water, and simmered for two hours. It worked wonderfully.
The house smelled incredible. The brush mixture created the most gorgeously russet roasted turkey I've ever seen. One of the members of the group expertly carved and deboned it in the Lodge kitchen. My husband sliced the ham.
Of course everyone brought massive food potluck to the dinner. Of course we had half the turkey and two-thirds of the ham to bring home. I'm contemplating the creation of a turkey meatloaf, and glowing at how well fed and rich we are.
Give thanks, everyone. We live in incredible abundance.