nothing for thanksgiving

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Oddly enough, we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving over here in Europe. Nevertheless, most of my friends from home (America) expect to see me over the holiday and ask if I am having turkey dinner on Thursday night. The answer is no. For Thanksgiving this year, I worked, went to yoga, then ate two cookies and drank a spot of tea for dinner.

And when I say no, nothing for thanksgiving, people feel really sorry for me. Honestly (mom and dad cover your eyes), I could care less. That’s right; Thanksgiving is not my favorite holiday. Neither turkey nor (American) football is all that appealing and so the dinner – while it does make a house smell amazing – is not the end all be all. Yes, there are the "sides," but green beans and pumpkin pie won’t send you into a food coma on the couch; and there is nothing like being taunted while rummaging in the refrigerator for lettuce leftovers to make you more annoyed than thankful: eating again? How could you possibly put more in your stomach??

Not to mention, it is stressful, this Thanksgiving business. Getting the bird from the store into the home into the oven onto the table. So much running around, so much family drama, so many people and personalities and emotions smooshed into a confined space on one, single day.

Living abroad, I am thankful that I do not have to contend with Thanksgiving. But I do miss the day after. This day right now: Friday. When America is placid and no one is working until Monday. When all the newspapers are running stories about what it means to give thanks and the columnists are personal about poverty, hunger, and war.

We get a lot of holidays here in Spain. And Europe is far more advanced than the United States when it comes to vacation days, thus promoting health, production, and creativity. But this November holiday is something the United States gets right. Take a look at Facebook and you will find thoughtful updates from friends about for what and whom they are thankful, their reasons for happiness, why we should remember those less fortunate. Not a single work-related email has arrived in my inbox from America since Wednesday night, and I won’t dare lob one across the ocean until Monday.

For many, Thanksgiving is a proper holiday of relief and a legitimate excuse to do absolutely nothing but be with the ones you love. It’s the nothing that I miss about Thanksgiving.

The Meaning of Signs

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The first thing you notice is that her movements are tidy, businesslike, and efficient. In fact, the only thing you really see are her hands. And when the two people at the front of the audience simultaneously move their eyes from her to the slides, she stops moving altogether. I, on the other hand, cannot keep my eyes off her. Nor can I stop watching her replacement – a younger girl who tires after ten minutes because, my guess is, she uses her entire body. She even employs her face to relay the verbal place-holders (uhhhh) and grimaces Christopher Poole uses when he cannot find the words to describe his ridiculously popular image board website. And when the words do come, they are obscure packages like “Internet meme” and “online handles.” Even the commonplace “servers and bandwidth” seems daunting in the land of signage. As someone who, just the other week, accidentally said “mesa” instead of “mes” I cannot fathom finding the words to translate a presentation about the origin of 4chan and Canvas…with my hands.

The New York Times says that Poole is a successful public speaker, but that is being kind. Surely, in a year’s time he will be a star but on this day he stands in one place, he flops his hands around, he suffers from dry mouth. It’s the content that sells. the content underneath the delivery. (coupled with the draw of getting a look at this 23 year old who created, from his boyhood bedroom, the Internet’s next big thing.)

As luck would have it, the third signer is a mix of the previous two: she is not as calm as the first, nor is she as passionate or desperate as the last.

I am at the front for these things (particularly in a large crowd such as this) because it is common knowledge that sitting at the front of the class helps you hear, see, and understand the content. And clearly I get distracted; because this whole sign language thing begets the contemplation of how we access and digest meaning.

Not only do our words create a thin veil over the value we attempt to communicate, but these signers demonstrate (for how else can they do it?) that our bodies likewise get in the way. Here were three examples – ranging from cold to moderate to effusive and I’m hard pressed to claim that one surpasses the other.

I would have loved to have asked the two deaf audience goers their opinion. Do you prefer a translator who is over the top or muted? How about somewhere in between? At what point is personality necessary and when does it get distracting?

Perhaps it is simply a matter of taste. We choose people to be part of our lives based on what works for us. Because, surely we are all translators for one another in this world. And the trick is to find others who render what they see, hear, touch, taste, and know in a way we can understand. On a limb, it is arguable that “meaning” in the world is one singular thing cut into pieces, dispersed, then multiplied in its various moving parts. Everything headed in separate directions.

Of course, if we all understood each other perfectly, the world would be a simple, uncomplicated place. Misunderstandings keep the world from being boring, keep our lives beautiful and interesting and new because we must forever endeavor to find ways to understand.

I can do without the straightforward translation. On the other hand, I want a fighting chance to know my own meaning of the world.

But, that’s just me.

Best Books Read in 2010

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The end of the year is all about lists – “Top 100 Albums of the Year,” for example, or “Top Ten Must-Have Gadgets of 2010.” And so, I  add to the noise with my own list of Best Books Read in 2010.  Rather informally, I’ve asked the people around me what book was their favorite  this year – it didn’t have to be the “best” book or even one recently published, just something they were glad to have picked up along the way.

Here's the list, random and inspiring (and perhaps mis-categorized) as it is:

 

Nonfiction

Historical Fiction

Dystopian

Biography, Memoir

Classics

Novels, Recently Published

Novels, Somewhat Recently Published

Faces of Mary

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The Basilica of the Annunciation in Nazareth, Israel is a beautiful church – regardless of the fortitude or flavor of your faith.  The spot is serene; an atmosphere that could stem from the fact that Mary seems to be rather uncontroversially loved by all.  (A nice goal, I suppose.) The church was built on top of what is considered the original home of Joseph and Mary, and excavated areas show the original village of Nazareth, including the room in which Mary was visited by the Archangel Gabriel.  It’s gone through rounds of rebuilds – originally established in Byzantine times, overseen (into disrepair) by Muslims, reconstructed by Crusaders, and again by the Franciscans.  The church today was built in the late 60s and is currently one of the largest in the Middle East.

But I am neither a history nor religion buff (really, ask anyone), so these details only half interest me.  Where I spent most of my time in the Basilica of the Annunciation was the upper part of the church and in the courtyard.  Here you can find paintings and mosaics dedicated from all around the world that depict Mary and the nationalism of the donating country.   Guess what?  Mary is not always an elegant white woman.

The American work is – can you guess – rather large and predominantly placed in the upper part of the church.  And Spain, for whatever reason, has three mosaics in the courtyard:

la foto 2
la foto 2
la foto 1
la foto 1
la foto 3
la foto 3

Nazareth is considered the Arab capital of Israel – of the 65k population, roughly 40k are Muslim.  So, the hometown of Mary – and the spot where Jesus may have played street games with childhood friends – is not without religious tension.  For example, this billboard in the center of the city:

Nueva imagen
Nueva imagen

The new school year is here

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Fall is right around the corner and I’m already wearing cotton scarves and getting ready to put on some boots (the fashionable kind not the snow kind). We are on the cusp of the season that makes New England what it is: crisp air, good sleeping weather, hearty produce at the farm stands, apples!  People have a bounce and a smile.  Finally, the weight of summer’s humidity (especially this summer) has dissipated, and the season of endless weekend activities is closing in on itself.  Going away for the weekend and making time for barbecues and the beach is such a chore! I am always relieved when summer arrives and all of the college students leave town – it's when I get my city back from the masses.  But the students are a big part of Cambridge and Somerville (and yes, Boston but that is so across the river), so by the time first semester rolls around, we need a good dose of a certain type of energy that only slack-jawed innocents can bring. Of course, they can annoy me like none other.  They don’t seem to know how to walk in a straight line and using the sidewalk in Harvard Square is completely beyond their abilities.  Their fashion sense is an eyesore.  And their mere presence draws out more people asking for spare change and hecklers who will throw a comment at anyone in a skirt.

Conversations amongst students are either frivolous or way too earnest, and always over the line of loud. Just sit in any bar for an hour and you will get the gist.  As the years go by, though, I get older (imagine!); and I look upon these saplings with amusement more than anything else.  We are all like this at some point in our lives.  They are the center of the universe – every book, album, and philosophical theory is right there waiting to be discovered.  Every store, park bench, and barstool is right there waiting to be occupied.  And of course!  They deserve this.  I can only imagine what I was like at that same point in my life.  I feel benevolent and forgiving towards the Boston newcomers this year.

So far, that is.  It is quite possible that the autumn air has drugged me.  Please don’t let me come down.

Geese queued on the Charles River.