Thanksgiving, Perspective and Abundance

"Being thus arrived in a good harbor and brought safe to land, they fell upon their knees and blessed the God of Heaven who had brought them over the vast and furious ocean."                                                                                                

                                                               ~ William Bradford

I think we're all pretty much aware that the image of  happy Pilgrims and Native Americans celebrating the first Thanksgiving is at best bogus if not an outright fabrication. It's simply a case of the victor writing history to suit his purpose. I was raised on a sanitized tale of Pilgrims sailing nobly to America and making friends with the Indians, bolstered by cute cut out cardboard decorations from the greeting card store. For many years that's how it was for all of us until around 1970, when someone burst our collective bubble and the realization that this wasn't just another potluck social starring our ancestors. The reality of the Pilgrims landing in the new world was gritty and grim. It seems the story was destined to be romanticized from the beginning if you consider the opening quote by William Bradford, so we can't blame it all on the greeting card companies.

Before it carried the Pilgrims to the New World, the Mayflower (as part of the British merchant marine fleet) carried wine from Bordeaux, France to Devon, England for at least a decade. Delivery of the Pilgrims to the mouth of the Hudson River was just another business assignment. The term Pilgrim-more descriptive of their mission than their group- wasn't actually used  to describe the First Comers to this part of the New World until the 1800's: before that they were refereed to as Separatists. The Separatists were a group of religious dissidents who believed it was necessary to leave the Church of England due to persecution by King James. One of the hallmarks of the Separatists were their use of the Geneva Bible, a translation of the Scriptures disapproved of by the Church of England. The group moved to a more religiously tolerant Holland for a few years, but returned to England when they were contracted by a London merchant in 1620 to establish a warehouse venture for the storage of timber, furs and whatever they could find of value in America.

The voyage last for nine weeks of mishap and stormy seas. Originally the Mayflower had been accompanied by a smaller ship, the Speedwell, which leaked so badly both ships had turn back to England. When ready to set sail again, the Mayflower, loaded with 102 passengers and crew, sailed alone.

At this point the history becomes muddled: the original landing site was somewhere near the mouth of the Hudson River, but records show that the group had permission to settle in Virginia. Instead, they landed near Cape Cod, Massachusetts...quite a bit of a mistake in navigation, if you ask me. They spent a month anchored just off the rocky shore while a group of passengers, including William Bradford, went ashore to explore the area. According to Travels of the Rock by John McPhee (Princeton University Press http://press.princeton.edu/chapters/s5_7108.html), Bradford was in the woods on day when he was accidentally caught in a trap cleverly designed  by one of the  native inhabitants. Once freed, Bradford and the exploration party proceeded to search the area and found a storage of  corn in buried baskets, which they acquired for their own use. Coming across the grave of a child, they pillaged what they considered the best of the belongings buried with the body. Little wonder they had arrows fired at them from unseen attackers in the nearby woods numerous time before the sun set that day. (I guess grave robbing was permissible by their religious standards and personal ethics because they considered the native people of the area a lesser form of humanity.)

When the scouting party of First Comers returned after some time to the Mayflower, they discovered that Dorothy Bradford had committed suicide by "going over the side of the vessel" and drowning. Months passed before the group dared to  finally walked through sub-freezing water and ice over the rocky shore to land. Most of the passengers on the ship had been ill with pneumonia and scurvy, and less than half of them survived to make settlement.

The Native Peoples of the region were familiar with the Europeans who had been exploring the region since the late 16th century. In southeastern New England, the Wampanoag and Narragansett people have been following an agrarian cycle of farming and fishing for thousands of years and ultimately taught their new neighbors those skills. In return the Europeans brought infectious diseases with them for which the Natives had no natural immunity.  Many villages were totally wiped out by measles and small pox.

The Pilgrims and Natives kept their distance until nearly a year and a half later, when they had contact with Samoset, a Native elder, who greeted them in broken English he'd learned from some other Europeans who'd come to fish in the area. It was he who introduced Squanto to the residents of Plymouth Colony. Squanto had been kidnapped by a sea captain in 1614, but returned to his people five years later. He remained a part of the colony as an ambassador until his death many years later.

There are only 2 reliable historical accounts (http://www.pilgrimhall.org/1stthnks.htm) of the "First Thanksgiving", which was actually a Harvest Festival the Pilgrims celebrated every year at home in England. To them, a day of thanksgiving was designated each week on the Sabbath, so there was no need for an additional day to give thanks.( There is a record of a special feast happening about three years after the establishment of the colony, to give thanks for the intervention of Providence after an extraordinarily long period of drought being ended by a rain storm.)

 "Freedom from Want" by Norman Rockwell

Some of my friends don't celebrate Thanksgiving, citing the bad treatment of the Native Americans by the Pilgrims. I agree they were indeed treated abominably and I understand. I can appreciate their wish to stand in solidarity with those they feel were wronged. On the other hand I would also like to frame the situation in a realistic light. The Europeans of that era believed their colonizing effort was just because they were 'improving' the area in the manner commonly in use in Europe at that time, which included permanent settlements and their own methods of farming. They introduced the Christian religion because they believed they were chosen to do so by a Higher Authority. While none of these actions are excusable in any manner, I'd like to point out that we are also judging people from hundreds of years ago by the current standards of our society. That is incorrect, also. While hardly justifiable in what they wrought upon the land and its inhabitants, we cannot frame these events by our own morals and ethics of the present day. We must allow for  a genuine understanding of the mindset of the day, which was very different from our own. Stripped of it's emotion, the situation is less volatile: the natives fought to retain their right to land they had lived on and worked on seasonally for centuries while the Pilgrims were fulfilling an agreement for which they were contracted. The bottom line for them was that it was a business deal, and they'd given their word to hold up their end. Like it or not, that's what it comes down to- it was all " just business" as the popular phrase goes these days.

My take on this is that I reject the negativity created by the story of the First Thanksgiving. That does not mean that I have forgotten who wronged whom, and I believe that the single most important lesson that has come from all of this is that we as a people should never allow this type of thing to happen in our lifetime. We cannot change the past or continue to hold a grudge against people who were long dead before our own great grandparents were even born. Remembering and agreeing are two completely different things, therefore a remembrance to honor the beginning of our country's history is not out of line. It has never been a perfect history and many objectionable events have taken place in it's forging- but it is there, none the less and continuing to carry on the anger and pick at the wounds every year when we should be celebrating being thankful in the spirit of gratitude is a greater wrong. The phrase, " Would you rather be right or rather be happy?" comes to mind. What do we gain by continuing to beat our breasts and crying over what we personally had no involvement in? Accept the lesson, and move on.

I'd prefer to think of Thanksgiving as simply that: thanks-giving. The day is about being thankful for what is manifest abundance. Individually,we have a lot to be thankful for no matter who we are and how much we struggle. Every one's  life could stand some improvement in some form, but we've all been blessed, we've all received something unexpected, something we have not earned and do not deserve. Every one of us. Be thankful for those things. Stop to acknowledge that which has come into your life unearned or uninvited, even the things that seem go wrong or be wrong. You will be surprised by the gift of resiliency you find and the personal tools you develop to survive. Isn't that something to be thankful for?

Thanks-giving is about what is plentiful in our lives, not about Pilgrims and turkeys.

 

Flanders Fields

Veterans Day originated as a time of remembrance after World War I-" The Great War". Indeed, it had been the most vastly far-reaching combat event in history up to the early years of the 20th century. When it was over on November 11, 1918 at precisely 11:00a.m.-the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month- it was regarded as " the war to end all wars". If only that optimist had been true.

It was a different kind of war. World War I was the first war of the modern age employing armored vehicles such as tanks and aircraft. It was the first time the enemy could be attacked from the air and  it changed the way armies fought- the battle was no longer simply on the ground and hand to hand. The use of mustard gas by the Germans against British troops debuted chemical warfare. Sulfur and nitrogen mustard was dispensed through aerosol spraying: from airplanes, in mortar shells or bombs. Because the effects of exposure did not become apparent until  later when blisters formed, many soldiers were repeatedly exposed and many died. Consequentially, autopsies of those exposed to  mustard compounds showed suppressed white blood cells, and later research lead to the discovery of nitrogen mustard as an effective chemical agent against lymphomas and leukemia, in effect making it one of the first forms of chemotherapy available.

The troops were often fighting nature as well: days on end in wet, cold, unsanitary conditions lead many to develop Trench Foot ( one of many types of temperature/humidity syndromes) which would lead to tissue slouching,bacterial or  fungal infection-and finally gangrene. Amputations were common...and so were deaths.  Much of this war was fought in trenches dug for miles through the European countryside, and it was here disease was as much an enemy as the German Army. War is an abomination, but in the genteel era in which this war took place, so much more the horror of it all.

Armistice Day was designed to honor the dead and the living who'd served in the military. President Woodrow Wilson first proclaimed Armistice Day for November 11, 1919. The holiday went through several incarnations until 1953, when a Kansas shoe shop owner proposed that it become a day to honor not just those who had fought in WWI, but in all the wars since.  Veterans Day was signed into law by President Eisenhower, replacing "Armistice" with "Veterans" in order to clarify the meaning of the holiday. Since that time to the present, Veterans Day has been kept on November 11 each year as a reminder of the courage and sacrifice of all those serving in military action on behalf of the United States.

I grew up with the poem In Flanders Fields. My grandfather was in the army between the two World Wars so the horror of the Belgium killing fields were fresh in his mind. It was one of the first poems I learned,  tucked away in the back of my mind until I saw Linus recite it many years later on a Peanuts cartoon special in which the gang-including Snoopy as the World War I flying ace-went on a field trip.
It's difficult putting the disconnect together, but whenever I read about the First World War, I feel a little like one of the Peanuts gang on that field trip. It's a surreal experience because so few of the veterans of that time are alive today-and there are less every year. There is no one left but history to tell the tale.

Occupy....Reality

photo via thenation.com

Occupy Wall Street...Occupy Oakland...Occupy (insert name of city here). People who are so frustrated at the economic collapse of our country that they have taken to the street to protest. People who are gathering with like-minded individuals to voice their distress. People who don't know what else to do and are at the end of their rope...

I can empathize. Really.

What I can't do is join you until someone gives me a viable,reliable, realistic reason to do so. A number of my friends are involved in the Occupy Movement and are standing out in the rain as I write this. They've been standing out in the rain, the cold and the wind for days now outside the state capital building. They've been arrested, bailed out and have returned to the same place on the side walk. They chant slogans and wave signs at passing motorists. They yell things like, " I'm doing this for you!" at passersby. They genuinely believe they are making a difference. I'd like nothing more than to see them be successful in making a change and helping to make things better for all of us.


But they haven't yet convinced me to join them. Why? Because I've participated in protests, sit-ins, and rallies for various reasons for the last 35 years. When the situation requires a show of numbers- such as when a vote is about to be considered on the senate floor- a visual sign of support or opposition is a crucial psychological aid to getting your point across. Groups of supporters at a one-shot event is great for morale-like when the school board wanted to change the local system. Gathering together in solidarity  showed them we were not only concerned, but that we were mad as hell. They got the message. It didn't change their minds, but they were a little more cautious in their decision making and a little less cocky about being in charge later-especially when we went to the polls and voted half of them out of office.

The Occupy Movement seems different: ask fifteen people why they're protesting and you'll get fifteen different answers.Everyone has their own reason. There doesn't seem to be a focus. The most popular answer to date seems to be," I'm asserting my constitutional right to protest." Well that's great that you're doing that, but what, if anything, have you accomplished?  I've actually heard people interviewed on the news say, " I'm exercising my right to peaceful assembly because I can." I wish I were kidding, but it's not a joke-that was the actual answer. It didn't answer the question-what are you hoping to accomplish? I'd like to be educated. Because you aren't telling me anything new or different than I already know about the evils of Corporate America. Honest. It's been in all the papers, TV and radio. It's all over the Internet. It's no big secret that requires masses of individuals to take to the streets. No amount of clever slogans, chanting, candlelight vigils and singing of folk songs is going to amount to a hill of beans in the long term. It will change no ones mind. Why? There are no teeth because the focus is too broad and nebulous. There are a zillion reasons why the economy sucks, and it's not all going to be fixed overnight, and certainly not because a group of well-meaning but misguided individuals are attempting to apply pressure to a huge corporate entity by camping out on the community doorstep.There are no great leaders to make speeches about a unifying purpose or to emulate in the Occupy Movement, no one like Thomas Jefferson, Gandhi or Martin Luther King. Because I truly believe that age is over. It worked in a time when nothing like it had ever taken place before. It was something novel and new, and it caught people's attention because it had a pinpoint focus stated in a few well chosen words by a respected leader. That's not the situation with the Occupy Movement. Too many people are saying too many things at once and the message is getting lost in the rabble. If you expect me to join you, then give me a better reason than jumping on the feel-good wagon, because I doubt that's going to inspire anyone to help raise the money to bail me out of jail.

This isn't a criticism, it's an observation by someone who's been there. This form of long-term protest is limited in its effectiveness; after awhile it becomes commonplace and everyday. Let's face it: the public is fickle. They will be on fire one moment and smoldering the next. It's just human nature. My personal opinion is that the Occupy Movement has already peaked and has accomplished getting people's attention. The next step would be for them  to direct individuals to take concrete, purposeful action, like going to the polls and making their vote count. Look closely at how your elected officials are voting- and if you don't feel as though they're contributing to a positive resolution to helping  fix the problems in our economy, if you think they're in bed with a corporate harlot vote them out of office. Better yet, find an elected official you think is doing a good job and become a volunteer in their campaign. Help get the word out  by using the electoral process.

It isn't just corporate greed that cause this situation, but our own. We all wanted bigger, better and more. We made demands that exceeded our needs. We wanted it all for us alone. And we were willing to chance riding the train to ruin to get ours...and we have. Now we're angry at the monsters we've created because they're destroying us. Standing out in the rain in front of the state capital isn't going to change that.

Meanwhile, the city has spent thousands of dollars on police overtime to make sure these few stalwart individuals are safe.  And yes, they have arrested a number of them who pushed the envelope. A few of these young, idealistic individuals in particular will flaunt their arrest reports proudly-right up until the next job  interview when a hiring manager rejects them for having a police record.Sadly, some of the others-who will protest anything-are just there to assert their non-conformity.

One lesson I have taken away from the time when I was that inexperienced and idealistic is that acting out of emotion doesn't pay the bills or keep clothes on your back when you quit your job at the big bad mega-corporation every one hates. You may feel noble at the time, but that doesn't feed you later when you're hungry. The second related lesson is that all your idealistic friends will either be joining you on the brink of  the abyss or will forget you exist altogether. Lesson number three is the hardest to come to terms with: you brought this on yourself and have no one else to blame. You will have accomplished nothing other than wanting to kick your own ass. Altruism bites. This is why, when you are more experienced in the realities of life, you choose your battles a little more carefully.

Personally,when it comes time to do so, I'm occupying the voting booth because it's the most realistic option for me.

Regeneration

I've written before that the time between Samhain and Yule is a period of hunkering down and nesting for me. The darkness and longer nights lend themselves to reflection. I have an extensive library because I love books: all kinds of books. I was a bookseller a decade ago,and  handling books everyday gave me a new respect for the artistry of the medium. Books have a life force to them which I don't feel when I use e readers; although there is nothing wrong with a e reader- I think they're great- they're just a different form of media. Books are  handled by many people before they end up on your shelf at home, so possibly what I'm picking up is the energy left not only by the author, but everyone who has been involved in the process. I also find that books which come from the little hole in the wall store have a definite vibration- but that's a whole other blog.

Not everyone has the luxury of kicking back every evening to read. I realize that. It was always a chore for me when I was working long hours: all I wanted to do was fix a little dinner and relax with a book. I owned the house my grandparents left me, and it was, frankly, a fixer-upper. It took a lot of fixing and maintenance. There was a big yard with a huge lawn that always seemed to need mowing, the garden needed weeding, the flowers needed watering and pretty soon I found I was a slave to the house.

I was overwhelmed by working and then coming home to do something for the house-not something to improve the quality of my life, mind you, but something the house demanded. While I was grateful to own my own home, I was growing resentful that it took away so much of my time.

It was an Epiphany when I discovered that it was more important to take care of me than the house.
I became run down and was sick more often. I'd take a daily shower but only wash my hair every other day because it took 30 minutes to condition and dry it, so I'd pin it up to be presentable so I could use the 30 minutes to garden. Or do laundry, mow the grass, prune bushes, dead head flowers, repair whatever needed it. I realized I was just doing these things to keep up with the neighbors expectations. So I stopped. The vegetables got a little too big and the weeds got a little taller, and the dishes piled up in the sink some nights, but I was tired of waging of doing battle.

Learning to prioritize wasn't easy. The house and job still made demands and deserved their respective attention...but I carved out my time because I deserved a little attention, too.

I began to schedule a couple of hours every night to just relax, read and study. I made it into a ritual: after dinner I did what absolutely had to be done in the line of 'house work', then I got out the books I wanted to read, a writing tablet, a cup of Earl Grey tea, and went to the living room and lit a candle-a cast a circle. This was now sacred space and time, and nothing was permitted to intrude. I read, I took notes and reflected on what I was reading, drank a  couple cups of tea and snuggled with my cat. It became a magickal time out of time and I looked forward to it every night. I became calmer and more sane because I was feeding my soul.

Now this is what deep Autumn is for me: a time of regeneration. What always felt like a fallow time of the year is now rich and productive. Over the last few days I've thought about what I wanted to do to improve myself, my life and my world, I've thought about how I can be of better service to others- and then I went to my bookshelves and made a list of books. Some I need to re-read in more depth so I can see them with new eyes; others I will read for the first time. My evenings to delve into this world of discovery are delineated by sacred space. I have found candles that burn for approximately two hours, and I have a lovely incense to help set the mood.

Within in that time I will become lost in the pages of a book or two...but I will find myself in the dark and quiet of deep Autumn's dying down. Life begins with a spark in the darkness, a desire to become, to form, to change...to be.

Just a Word...

A few words of gratitude and thanks to all of you who have been reading Broom With A View in the last year-the journey has been one of amazing discovery. We've done a bit of laughing, shed a tear or two, been outraged, educated and our horizons have expanded all in the space of this little page...and I have been truly blessed by you, through your encouragement and comments. Thank You once again, and here's wishing all of you as much abundance as your heart can hold and imagine in the coming year!

Kate

Reflections on Hallowtide

"Our dead never forget the beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its winding rivers, its great mountains and its sequestered valleys and they ever yearn in tenderest affection over the lonely-hearted living and often return to visit and comfort them."~ Chief Seattle

I think the most wonderfully magickal time of the year is when the Ancestors come back to visit us. We don't really know what goes on beyond the Veil. We  only have our imagination until it's our time to cross over. At Samhain- All Hallows, Hallowe'en- we get a glimpse of what lies beyond when the Veil is at it's thinnest during the year. It's a time that's held mystery and magic in the human mind for ages, a mystical journey each of us eventually takes alone. Until then, our imagination stirs to project our fears of death and the unknown on this last night of the Ancient Celtic Calendar.

 I love Hallowe'en, our Sabbat of Samhain. If I had my way, I'd live in Hallowe'en year 'round-but then again, like all things, it would cease to be special and I guess I wouldn't look forward to it as much as I do. Autumn, from Mabon to Yule -but especially Hallowe'en- is my happy time of year. Even if you drag it out like I do and celebrate the entire season, it's only ten weeks, tops, and it's not nearly enough. I love living in the time of All Hallows, when the trees are flaming torches of red, green, gold, and the dry grass bows low in the chilly mornings, the frost coats the fallen leaves like sugar and the pumpkins are bright orange orbs in the fields. 



Autumn is the season when the daylight becomes scarce and the night grows longer. The sky is often a witch's brew of colors, but at the twilight of the year, my soul is tired after the high revelry of Samhain and I seek out places to nest, to curl in on myself: to   read and reflect. It is my personal Dream Time. I often read by candlelight this time of year, because I so love how the shadows play around the room. I am more comfortable in the semi-darkness than in the stark cold of daylight, and I hunker down with a cup of hot tea and a soft blanket, surrounded by my books.

I love being alive and visiting  Death. I am captivated by the mystery of what lies beyond and am called by spirit voices which beckon me to come and play in the graveyard with them, to run my hands over the cold, worn carved stones and discovery who is there still. I have loved this time of year since I was a child and have never feared what others fear. The Hallowe'en symbols of the season hold some of my dearest childhood memories, as again I am surrounded by the smell of apples cooking, and hot molasses cookies; I hear the clattering of bare bone branches and crinkling corn husks. Somewhere distant the Crone cackles, and the lines around her wisdom-filled eyes deepen. She tosses  her shawl  around me and I become old as she is and as as ageless as the youngest trick-or-treater at the door. It is a day that is not a day, a time outside of time. I keep  Hallowtide  in my heart the same as Charles Dickens wrote of "keeping Christmas".

I knew All Hallows was a holy time- knew it before I knew what holy was. I felt it in the  deepest place my soul dwelled. Before it was named in my consciousness, the sacred waited.
I knew there was a sacred cycle, a holy dance we did around the wheel until we came back to  Hallowtide. No one told me; I simply anticipated it's return. Long before I knew I was a witch, I knew this truth.



Life is a succession of 'little deaths' and rebirths- the dry husk of mortality crumbling so the kernel can be planted with hope of harvest. The seed winters in the earth until spring; life is reborn at the appointed time.  We loose our dead to regain them anew; they are again alive in us, and we are the seeds of their immortality. If we carry those who lie at rest in the grave in our hearts, they will speak to us when we require their wisdom. The voices of the Ancestors come on the wind and they are clothed in Autumn finery. This is the triumph of All Hallows, the continuation of life beyond the supposed finality of the grave. The Ancestors come  when the Portal opens and the Veil is pulled aside at the harvest of the year. They are young and vibrant because Death itself is the Ultimate Healing, transformed back into who they were when the were their most vital. 

What if the soul lives in the present body as a mere outer garment, the better to sleep in until it is ready to go on once again living? When a tree's leaves wither and die, the root system is still alive beneath the ground, unseen by us. It sleeps and regenerates until it knows the Spring is near, when it can burst forth in the newness and celebration  of Life. 

These are the lessons of Life and Death. When we have lived long enough to be the last one standing, we come to the realization that Life is not a personal possession, it is a trusteeship, and we are but unknowing stewards.

This post originally appeared in the Fall/Holiday edition of Witches Hour Magazine. Copyright  Broom With A View and AmethJera/Kate Dennis,September 2011. All Rights Reserved. No copying of this article by any means without expressed written consent of the author.

Who Stole My Halloween?

It's been gray, cold and miserable the last few days, leaving me feeling like it's the middle of January rather than 3 days before Halloween. The usual cure for that form of the blues is an excursion to one of the local malls. And I do mean to use the word 'excursion' rather than 'trip'. A mere trip to the mall means getting into the car and driving for a reasonable amount of time, usually no more than 30 minutes. Riding public transit in this otherwise progressive mid-sized Southern city means boarding the bus a block away from home, riding for nearly an hour through several neighborhoods, apartment complexes and a university campus to a shopping center that is 10 minutes away by car, transferring to a connector bus that will take you Downtown to the transit hub (another 45 minutes. Downtown is 20 minutes from home by car, tops), where you wait 19 minutes for a bus that takes you through several very nice suburban neighborhoods, which in turn takes another hour. See what I mean? That's an excursion. It doesn't matter which mall you go to, they are all roughly two and a half hours away by bus-and that's only one way. Those who work as planners for public transit can't understand why more people don't ride the bus. A month ago I flew to LA from Atlanta in the same length of time. Think about it.

My intentions were to head to Cheesecake Factory for lunch, then cruising the mall to ogle  the Halloween/Autumn/ Thanksgiving stuff, which always cheers me up even if I don't actually purchase anything. I am a window shopper and enjoy just looking...and I admit that I often leave coveting something totally frivolous. If it's on sale-or cheap enough-it may come home to live with me. It's a challenge to justify one more dust collector, but I'm usually up to the challenge, especially if it's something that can double for Halloween and Thanksgiving ( Yes, I do have too many glass, ceramic,wood, resin, porcelain, plastic pumpkins-why do you ask? ) I am rather proud of my collection of  Autumnal arts, and I am actually picky about what I buy. Scoring something new is part of the fun.

I knew this was going to be a dismal day when I found myself walking through stores already decorated for Christmas. Not stores selling things pertaining to Christmas; I mean decorated for it and playing carols over the PA system. I love Burl Ives' singing Have A Holly Jolly Christmas as much as the next guy, but not on October 28th, and especially not when I have traveled two and a half hours to look at Halloween things. Where were the Jack-O-Lanterns, black cats, bats and witches hats?

Hello, Mall Security? I'd like too report a robbery....Somebody stole my Halloween. There were spun polyester spiderwebs, scarecrows, mummies, Jack-O-Lanterns and homemade tombstones decorating the houses I passed on the way here, so I know I'm not confused about which holiday we're celebrating in a few days. The trees are still thick with colored leaves, and until this morning, it hasn't actually been all that cold. Costumes are being sold in Rite Aid and ghoul make-up is 50% off, but the halls of the local mall are decked with artificial pine, red ribbon,candy canes and snowflakes. And that  empty space that's been therecsince the beginning of the year ? The one that had the 'Coming Soon' sign promising a Halloween Adventure store now has A Christmas To Remember store instead. What happened? Is this a trick?

I feel like Charlie Brown's little sister Sally who misses Tricks and Treats because she's been waiting for the Great Pumpkin with Linus: I want to yell, " I've been robbed!" It was little comfort that the Hallmark store had a half isle of Halloween nick-knacks. Most of them were candles anyway.  I don't think the shelves were empty because the really cool Halloween stuff was gone, rather it looked like it had been moved to make way for all the Christmas junk...and there wasn't a single turkey in sight. Nada. Nothing. At least they had the courtesy to set up the Hanukkah goods in the back of the store
( or they were hiding it). Christmas with all it's red and green ho ho was front and center. What there was of Halloween was behind it, farther inside the store. I don't understand the reasoning behind this marketing strategy, and I've worked retail off and on for years.

The Macy's where I worked  years ago trimmed their store with orange, yellow, red and green leaves. They were scattered inside low display cases and Autumnal garlands hung from the taller displays.The trees-which I knew were really artificial Christmas trees underneath-were hung with colored leaves, tiny pumpkins and bats (which were later replaced with turkeys). There was a spooky woodland theme going, kind of like the haunted forest. A couple of the manikins on the main floor were draped in sheets and dressed in orange and black clothing, or something appropriate for a homecoming/tailgate party. We had a proper recognition of Fall prior to Christmas...which arrived with the Christmas Parade on Black Friday. Last year I missed  the Christmas Parade here because it was held ten days before Thanksgiving.

The retailers and marketing geniuses think that putting all this stuff out early will inspire customers to buy more merchandise sooner, but I think a lot of people are like me. In fact, I know they are, because I overheard several making the same complaint I am right now. I know there is a psychological angle to marketing and presentation, but I can't for the life of me get the gist of what I saw today. Hoping to see some Autumn cheer and being met with Christmas was...underwhelming. It  felt forced-especially seeing sales associates in Halloween costumes working amid Christmas decorations- and very, very artificial and contrived. From working behind the scenes I know it's all an illusion, but out of context, Christmas wasn't bright, shiny and happy. Rather there was the opposite effect-it was contrived and depressing because the thing that's  the real reason for the season ( and no, I don't man Jesus) is Christmas Spirit. We have bought into Charles Dicken's ideal Merry Christmas, and as hard as they tried, it was no where to be found...because it's not Christmas, damnit, it's Halloween. The red and green looks sadly out of place and by December it will be shopworn.

A word to the retail giants: I may buy Christmas presents throughout the year, but I don't buy anything Christmas related until Christmastime. I don't patronize stores that drop Christmas into a slot right after the Columbus Day Sale. I celebrate the beginning of Autumn, Halloween and Thanksgiving, so tell Jolly Old St.Nick to park his sleigh for at least a month, tell the herald angels to put a sock in it, and kick Christmas all the way back to the North Pole until Black Friday. Right now give me a Jack-O-Lantern and a handful of gingersnaps and I'll go away happy.