(This is an old pal, captured in another place and time. Friends are the very essence of what it is to be human- and alive. Can you guess who it might be?)
It is way to early for a retrospective on this astonishing year. We have covered many of the events that are, by turns, alarming and saddening. There is plenty of time to work them over as we advance to a bold new year. I mean, the Lions have not even lost the traditional Thanksgiving Day game yet.
Here in Arlington, the wintry mix that swept through the streets has passed, leaving us with a day of thanks bright with promise, and chill as a scalpel.
I was working on a piece- completed it, actually- that is not about what this day means. I then worked on a bit of fluff you will see, presently, very much in my snarkiest mode about wines and those of us who drink them.
There will be some wine-drinking later, all over this great land. But neither the alarmist clap-trap nor gentle joshing at our foibles seem appropriate to the day.
(Thanksgiving turkey, Japan-style.)
I was talking to my son in Japan this morning- he having completed his Thanksgiving on the far side of the world and me just starting mine. I realized how blessed I am to have two sons who have their heads screwed on properly. The JG’s brother completed his first marathon a couple weeks ago, beating my best time, and is a new and confident home-owner.
(Completing the first marathon with his coach!)
I am a very lucky (and proud) father.
I am also blessed with the best crew of eccentric, reprobate and unrepentant pals in the whole blinking universe.
The small crew of dedicated correspondents know who they are. The farther flung components of the Socotra network fly through my consciousness with regular though elliptical frequency: from Oz under the Southern Cross, to Dai Nippon and the lovely Islands of the mid-Pacific, and the Left Coast, from Baja Dulce north to Seattle; through the inter-mountain West and the Front Range, east to the mouth of the mighty Mississippi and north to its origins; the famous crew from Up North who are never far from my thoughts; and our nest of East Coasters and Beltway Bandits, from Key West to the foam-tipped rocks of coastal Maine; and across the slate-gray Atlantic to unsinkable and indomitable England, and on to where my day often begins with ruminations from the in Eastern Mediterranean.
You know who you are. You are who make this a day of thanks. Big Time
Talk to you soon.
Vic
(I wondered if you guessed correctly! Happy Thanksgiving!)
Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303