We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
In the absence of the Red Hot Chili Peppers and a bunch of pipers, Mrs. BD will have to bang out Auld Lang Syne herself on ye olde pianny tomorrow afternoon for a sing-along as the extended BD family gives thanks, but, for the first time, with my parents gone. Lots of people sleeping over - hope we can find enough rooms and beds at the BD Manor.
Mrs. BD can still find her pianny brain when she wants to. There is nothing like a Steinway to inspire them fingers because the machine fills the house with glorious sound, missed notes and all. I like the missed notes.
Our Thanksgiving tradition is to always invite friends along with family, especially friends and acquaintances without jolly and festive plans, but not so much of that this year even though we love having people around the place. There remains a funereal atmosphere in the family. These lyrics are more appropriate for the situation than I might have imagined. If any one of us can get through it without breaking down, I'll be amazed.
It is true that Bobbie Burns stole the lyrics, but he said he had done so.
Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne?
CHORUS: For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.
And surely you’ll buy your pint cup! and surely I’ll buy mine! And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet, for auld lang syne.
We two have run about the slopes, and picked the daisies fine ; But we’ve wandered many a weary foot, since auld lang syne.
We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till dine; But seas between us broad have roared since auld lang syne.
And there’s a hand my trusty friend! And give me a hand o’ thine! And we’ll take a right good-will draught, for auld lang syne.
Dear BD--never forget and never be ashamed of remembering them. Remember the warmth of their presence as if they were still in the room with you--it's ok--it's legal, and you do not know . . .
Love them as you always did and raise a toast to them in particular. You are the host. You are the son. Tomorrow it is your honor and your duty to see to it that it is as if they were there.
I will say a prayer for you and yours--don't be ashamed! My money says they are standing there side by side looking down and smiling at all of you.
BD...thanks for sharing so, so much. Please know that many are with you in spirit and prayer as you celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas, while mourning the loss (although certainly with you from Heaven) of your dear, departed parents.
And, I must add, without meaning at all to minimize your loss, BD, many others are going, alone, through similar, but different losses. They, too, need our thoughts and prayers.
Happy and Blessed Thanksgiving. Celebrate your memories of those gone and not able to visit. Finally, and most importantly, enjoy those present and able to celebrate with out.