Daily Archives: November 27, 2014

Family, Holidays, Politics

The Capital Grille

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Samain                                                                          Moving Moon

The Capital Grille. Aptly named. Could have been (maybe really is) the Capitalism Grille. Dark wood, leather, buck heads with santa hats, clocks telling the time in London, Chicago, Tokyo and somewhere else. Faux paintings of dead white guys like Hubert Humphrey, Harold Stassen (for party balance) and, oddly, one of a Hormel guy who invented a meat refrigeration unit. A large bronze eagle swoops down, behind and through its wings the kitchen is just visible. The bison head, so dark against the wood as to be invisible, surprised Kate when she noticed it, then Anne and me when she pointed it out.

The menu presents mostly steak done in various ways. I had a pepper steak, Anne a Gorgonzola and truffle topped filet, Kate scallops. It was, in its way, a fun place to have a Thanksgiving dinner. The food was good and the people watching excellent.

While we ate our rare (cool center), medium rare (warm center) steaks, thick cuts of dry aged beef and seared scallops, we tried to parse out the table across the way, three tables put together. It could have been a Mafia family. Men came forward and kissed the cheek of an older man at the head of the table. One woman, sheathed in black and affluence, older had her husband carrying a brightly colored tote. She reached in and pulled out a center piece with faux gold apples and ivy, flowers. It had small, battery operated flames for the candles. Another woman brought a potted plant. These were set in the center of the table. When their plates came, they had all ordered the turkey dinner.

A curiosity was the youngish blond on the arm of an older man. She had no ring and ran her hand across his back as she sipped red wine from a large balloon glass. What was their relationship? A date? An escort? Made me wonder.

Why were we all here instead of at home with a football game on in the background? (not the Rose Bowl. I know now. That’s New Years. So take back my male creds.) Had others had their families dwindle in number until cooking at home just didn’t make sense? (our case) Perhaps others were tired of turkey? Or, perhaps others didn’t have time for a full meal at home.

Whatever it was, we filled this hall, a celebration of wealth earned the old fashion way, through stock dividends, ate our steaks and our turkey and scallops in sight of each other, but still separated. I wonder what we were thankful for?

 

 

Colorado, Faith and Spirituality, Mountains, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., The Move, The West

Hmmm.

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Samain                                                                             Moving Moon

Here is an interesting conundrum. Should I let my Colorado self emerge out of the casual interactions inherent in moving to a new location: talking to mechanics, visiting the grocery store, dining at the 285 cafe? Or, should I try to shape it, finding like minded folks through obvious clusterings such Sierra Club, the Denver Art Museum, the Democratic party? Sure, it will be a bit of both, I know, but where I should place my emphasis?

As I have been discussing the move, I’ve emphasized the loss of the Woollies, my docent friends, the sheepshead guys and the thick web of history here after 40 plus years. One straight line of thinking is to investigate the sociology of Denver for nodes of persons whom I might meet with similar tastes and interests. That’s why I’ve mentioned politics and the Sierra Club as likely sources for new friends.

And yet. Another part of me, reinforced by some reading in Kierkegaard and an article by a professor on why he has left politics behind (politics or productivity in his mind), have given me pause. Not to mention the onrushing reality of the move. No, I don’t have to make a decision soon, or ever for that matter, but I want to.

Why? Because I don’t want to create a sticky fly trap for my self. I don’t want to make commitments in order to meet people that will result in my needing to pull back later. Right now I’m thinking that politics, though a strong and thrumming wire wound throughout my life, is just such a fly trap. As would be volunteering at one of the museums. Long drives. Winter weather. I dropped both Sierra Club and the MIA for those reasons and, to underscore the professor’s logic, to enable my productivity.

A Colorado, a mountain, a western, a grandpop self will come into being if I live my life, flowing from here to there as events take me. I want the productivity that I find so dependent on having my own time and my own space. Guess that’s my answer for right now.

 

Faith and Spirituality, Holidays, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Thanksgiving Morning

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Samain                                                                  Moving Moon

A holiday morning. This one with no pans clanking, oven sending out aromas. Not even the Macy’s parade. I never did connect our HD Comcast service. The HD delivers the basic cable channels we pay for to keep down the cost of the broadband. No Rosebowl later in the day either.

Dining this afternoon at the Capital Grille. Our last Thanksgiving here and we’re sharing it with Anne, Kate’s sister. A cold day, appropriate for the final major holiday of our Minnesota lives.

Holiseason hits its full stride with Thanksgiving. After this the holidays keep coming, up to and through Epiphany on January 6th. So many of them focus on getting.  The twin oxen of capitalism and marketing, goaded as they pull the treasure carts of mercantilism, strain to drag us off center in our lives. That’s why Thanksgiving and its focus on gratitude is so important for us right now.

But. Black Friday. Bleeding into Thanksgiving evening. Bah. Humbug. Marley’s ghost drags his chains around in delight.

As the lights go up, the songs come on the radio, I love the focus on illumination. Enlightenment, you might say, is the reason for the season.

And yet. I find myself, to quote Robert Frost, “one acquainted with the night.” This is the season of darkness, the approach to the longest night of the year. The dark is fertile, a place of creativity and the nurturing of life before it emerges into the day. Here in Andover and also on Black Mountain Drive the night brings with it silence, a quiet similar to holiday mornings, like the one around me now. I love the blackness and the light. Blessed be.