The Dingo Ate My Thanksgiving Scraps

There are some good things about being a bit out of touch with what is going on in the outside world on a day like this.  For example, I missed seeing a pop singer who had unsuccessfully tried to clown the Salvation Army wear what appears to be a lampshade to her less than successful halftime show, which is more evidence that it is best not to wear a shade when one is trying to throw shade on others.  Likewise, one of America’s nearly defunct fake news outfits tried to claim that our president was going to spend his Thanksgiving day golfing and tweeting and he ended up making a surprise visit to Afghanistan to encourage our troops there.  In both of these cases we saw the sort of double standards that are omnipresent in our contemporary world, namely that people find it easy to take pot shots at other people without being aware that one can receive pot shots in return.  It is easier to see how others are vulnerable than it is for us to recognize how we may be beclowning ourselves.

A great many people seem to have a hard time calling Thanksgiving Thanksgiving.  There is something more than a little disconcerting about hearing the day referred to as “turkey day,” since the attitude of gratitude that one wishes to exemplify on a day like today is vastly more important than the sort of protein one has on it.  Theoretically one could have turducken or a ribeye or even tofurkey on a day like this and one would still be able to show gratitude for what God has given us, and reflect upon the blessings that our nation and our people have enjoyed over the past few centuries.  To show gratitude for God’s divine providence is to recognize that God’s bounty does not come to us and has not come to us because of our worthiness but because of God’s faithfulness to His promises long ago and to his graciousness to us here and now.

While I was enjoying a fine Thanksgiving as it usually is, I had some cause to reflect on the group of us that were eating together.  There was a relatively new member who ate with us who had plenty of experience as a pilot and was talking about his education and work and experiences flying.  We had the usual group of people who are related to the host and who spent time drinking and talking and eating as is often the fashion.  We also had with us two fairly new dogs from one of our hosts’ relatives.  One of the dogs happened to be walking with a bad limp in its front right paw, and we are unsure about how the dog was injured only that it was.  The other dog was a blue heeler, and in looking up that breed I found out that it was part dingo and known for being very loyal and also prone to bite, even though the dog happened to be friendly and mostly interested in jumping around and being fed off of plates.  I was able to avoid the part-dingo from eating off of my plate, but it was a near run thing.  You know how these things go.

About nathanalbright

I'm a person with diverse interests who loves to read. If you want to know something about me, just ask.
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