Happy Thanksgiving. It’s a day for traditions, every family has them – turkey, dressing, pumpkin pie, going to church, watching football, visiting, playing cards in the back room, perhaps. How about a walk? I know any number of people who go out to stretch their legs and get a lungful of bracing air, either to work up an appetite or to walk off the big feed.
In the last week, I’ve been thinking about what it would be like if I took a Thanksgiving Day walk to Canada. The Canadian border is about 40 miles from my house, over mixed terrain. If I’m going to make it in one day, I’ll have to start early and leave before I’ve had my portion of turkey. It might be mild or cold, it might be raining or snowing.
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Are There No Prisons?
“God bless us, every one.”
Is it that time of year? Again? Already? Now that it’s December, Adrienne is spoiling for me to rent the 1951 British version of “A Christmas Carol,” with Alastair Sim. It’s a good movie, I’ll admit, but “A Christmas Carol” was written in 1843. Of what relevance could anything Charles Dickens wrote be to us 156 years later?
Early in the book, when a couple of 19th-century canvassers ask Scrooge for a donation to Christmas charity, Scrooge asks: “Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?” In those days, if you couldn’t pay your bills, instead of getting pre-approved for yet another credit card, you were sent to debtors’ prison; if you were poor you were packed off to a workhouse. All of that was long ago and far away. All that is just some Ghost of Christmas Past that should have disappeared years ago.
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