Thanksgiving

Aleathia says:

Another year, another Thanksgiving right? One would think so, but anymore it has just been another day for me. It used to be my favorite holiday with a house full of people and everyone eating more than stomach's should allow on any given day. It was always my saddest holiday when I was away from home. I still remember the year a friend in Seattle took me home to her family dinner only to find out it was customary for all the kids in the house to bring home folks who had no place to go. We all sat around the table and said what we were thankful for. We listened, later, to her whole family sing. It is still one of the most beautiful days of my life. That happened in 1994.

I have been away from home for a very long time and over these years I have gotten used to a small or non-existent Thanksgiving. I have learned to not hold so much to the day...maybe so it wouldn't hurt so much. I usually work because it doesn't matter when you have a dinner to go to. I was supposed to work this year again, but I was need on other days so here I sit in a silent house. Chloe is sleeping and Michael is at work. Later Chloe will go to her father's where they still have a to do on Thanksgiving.

Today, I am tasked with making my first turkey since 1997 when I made my first ever turkey on Thanksgiving when it was just me and my boyfriend of the time. 19 years between turkeys.  That is some gap. I hope I get it right because Michael waits for turkey all year long.

I have come to understand that holidays aren't as big a deal as we have always made them. It is the actions we take everyday towards our family that mean the most. I am not good with keeping up with people if not on Facebook. I'm not sure why honestly, I just keep to myself a lot. But I have built a great family with Michael and Chloe which makes me thankful every day. Those two keep my smiling and working hard and make me want to go the extra mile. After dinner tonight, Michael and I will watch "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles" which has become one of our small traditions. I will wake up tomorrow and have to go to work and it will all move forward from there.

But today, today would have been my father's 67 th birthday. I miss him every day. I miss his laugh and our 15 minute phone calls, our letters, our music sharing. I miss his calm advice and his strong love. Happy Birthday Pop. I love you. I'm eternally thankful for all the lessons you gave me, still give me when I slow down long enough to listen.

Aleathia

Lit Bits - 11/5/14 Durable Goods

And the prodigal Joe makes a glorious appearance!

A recent discovery threw me back on The Forked Road. I’ve spent the summer and fall free of social media, and with that came my absence from my contributions here (alas, some distant Friday from now, part two of a never-finished series on biological art will rear its head). I had always intended to return here once I finished my current book, but here I am now:

While cleaning up around our room, my lovely and beautiful girlfriend rediscovered my collection of Durable Goods microzines. For those not in the know, Durable Goods was a bi-weekly bit of poetry and literature that was created by our very own Aleathia. Printed and hand-cut and hand-folded and mailed out, all by her. It was a bittersweet rediscovery. The work in the little booklets are great, and each came with a lovely card with an inspirational quote handwritten by Alea. I even appeared in issue 45 with a little prose poem titled “Piano Girl”; three or four years later, I still don’t hate it (a considerable achievement). Still, something wasn’t quite right…

Of the two dozenish zines graciously sent to me, only five had been opened.

Out of nowhere, I had a stack of unopened Durable Goods running from the 40's to the final issue, 68. I was simply shocked: how could I have simply tossed these aside without even opening them? I’m a mail fiend! I tear into whatever postage remotely has my name on it (I share a name with my father; companies don’t always get the memo). It was, and still is, highly disturbing to me that I so blatantly disregarded these wonderful bits, precious gifts.

In the past hour, I’ve gone and opened every single zine; read each handwritten note; made a nice, neat stack in numeric order; and placed them gently in a small plastic bin on my mantle to be read, then better stored, in the near future. I then immediately sat down to write this.

As a Lovecraftian aficionado, nothing quite stimulates me like finding lost, obscure texts. I decided to share this on Lit Bits day for the perspective of this being a wholly exciting discovery: new poetry to read, more work to internalize, cannibalize! What wonders await me! I only regret not having been privy to Durable Goods at its inception, to have the complete collection.

Now, alas, I don’t feel I deserve it anyways.

Pushing my self-woe aside, I'll now take the time to applaud Aleathia for everything she does, and has done. I'm glad to be back on the Road.