For my readers who don't live in Canada, I can tell you that this last weekend was Thanksgiving. This weekend was also the end of the Feast of Tabernacles, the annual Thanksgiving celebration in Israel, and I probably don't need to tell you what happened there on the weekend.
On the important holidays most of us in the West observe, I have a hard time writing about the stuff I usually write about, or at least in the way I normally write about it. That's even more true today. While I sit here in my relative safety and comfort and think about the things I'm thankful for, I can't even begin to imagine what it's like for those in Israel this week at the end of their Thanksgiving season.
So, rather than offer my opinions on war in the middle East, I’m going with what I had intended to write this week in the first place. I've noticed I often lose subscribers whenever I write a piece that’s a little bit reflective. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll come up with something to make you angry next week if that's what you really want.
This week it'll be a bit different. The biggest reason for this is because I had already written it before all this action in the middle East and I'd rather not let it go to waste.
So, there's that…
The Chair
Years ago I took an old chair home from my parents' house. It’s a really cool old chair and I love it. It's solid oak and the seat is thick leather worn smooth from years of use. Decades ago someone drove a screw through the left arm in a misguided attempt to tighten it up. It's still together so I guess it worked. It's not super comfy - it needs new springs and stuffing, but it's solid.
It gives the impression of a chair perfectly suited for sitting in front of a fire and smoking a pipe or sipping scotch. I don't smoke and apparently I'm not nearly refined enough to appreciate scotch, but I do like a good glass of whisky. Sadly, this chair just isn't comfortable enough to get maximum enjoyment out of my whisky, so it ends up being the place where we set laundry baskets or boxes of random stuff that are on their way out the door. Every now and then the cat decides to commandeer it, especially if there's a basket of clean laundry there.
Sometimes the best aspect of any item is the story behind it - the history. What I love most about this chair is where it came from. This is the story of the chair from what my Dad told me about it:
My Grandpa worked on the railroad most of his life. He was in charge of several sections of track (I think they called him a "section manager" or something). Anyway, he had hired this guy to work for him because the guy needed a job and had trouble finding work. Evidently he had a bit of a drinking problem but Grandpa decided to give him a chance. This is just what Grandpa was like.
The guy ended up being a decent, hard-working employee - as long as he could stay off the bottle, and so on payday, Grandpa would go around to all the local shops and make sure that they wouldn't sell this guy any vanilla because that was his source for cheap liquor. In case you're getting any ideas for a cheap fix, I'm pretty sure that doesn't work anymore, at least not in this country.
My Grandpa bent over backwards to give this guy a chance and years later, after he was back on his feet, the guy showed up at my Grandparents' door and gave my Grandpa this big chair as a thank-you gift and to say how grateful he was for how he had been treated at the time. Even then, it was old and beat up, but I guess it was something he had and he really wanted Grandpa to have it. My Grandpa, being who he was, graciously accepted the gift and held onto it for years until my Dad took it home.
To me, it was always just an old, cool, slightly ugly chair, though I never knew the story until years after that.
When my Dad told me this story, I felt like it explained so much about him. So much of what he was, was a product of what he saw his Dad do. Over and over again. This is my Grandpa's legacy, and now it's my Dad's as well.
I think we're all products of what has been modelled for us. For many of us thst’s a good thing, for some of us maybe not so much. Still others have made deliberate decisions to not be what they observed and they and their families are far better for it. You might say they were inspired by the negative legacy they were given.
I don't know for sure, but I would think there's likely some application of this on a larger scale as well. I think of some countries in the middle East today that continue to do what they've always done for generation after generation with no end in sight. It would take an incredibly strong leader to break that cycle, and if one were to ever emerge, he could probably thank that negative legacy for the motivation.
As for that old chair, regardless of how beat up it is, it's probably my favourite piece of furniture even though I rarely ever use it. Maybe some day I'll tighten it up and get the seat re-stuffed. Perhaps I'll watch a YouTube video and learn how to fix the springs. While I'm at it, I might even discover how to appreciate a good scotch.
I feel a little old and decrepit too some days. Sometimes a bit stressed and cantankerous - especially this time of year. I've got some good qualities and some bad ones. Thankfully, my wife goes out of her way to remind me of the good ones. Yes, she also reminds me of the bad ones, but not quite as often (she's awesome that way).
So yeah, I'm super thankful for where I happen to live (especially this week), and also for those who have my back, but I'm also thankful for the legacy I've inherited. I sort of feel like it's a responsibility because like that old chair, there are times I think the best thing about me is where I come from, and that's also a mighty fine thing to be thankful for.
Good story, Ken. It's a nice break from the headlines.
I found the strong peaty flavors typical of Scotch to be unpleasant at first, but someone introduced me to a Macallan. It’s sweeter and much more palatable for us newbies, I think. Yum.