Woke up early and went to the church offices with Jonny, Cisco, and the Cooke family to watch the parade - right on Broadway and 36th - good times all around. Came home and went straight back to bed for a couple hours before heading over to C&M's for a fabulous dinner. Still stuffed.
I've drummed on it a number of times in the recent past, but its been indelibly placed on my heart through the last few years: we have so much.
We've been born to incredible days - convenience, speed, and quality are paramount in everything we have - from travel to food to health care to entertainment. We have a peace and safety that, comparatively speaking, outweighs most all of the former eras in history. Our living standards continue to rise, and yet it seems like our drive to serve self rises in lock-step.
This holiday, I'd encourage you to consider giving charity rather than gifts. Having worked for corporations like Macy's in the past, I know only to well how much their fiscal year depends on the consumers coming out in droves to drop their savings on material purchases of things they feel they need. If we only knew the real meaning of the word 'need,' perhaps we'd seek to stimulate the economy in a way that actually helps those who do know real need.
Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruits of our labor. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which we brought to the plantation and bestowed on our governor, and upon the captain and others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God, we are so far from want that we often wish you partakers of our plenty. - Edward Winslow, Mourt's Relation