According to my scale
Or the mysticism of a full moon
I over did the Thanksgiving meal.
Two too many heavy beers,
An ocean or sty of bacon wrapped scallops,
And plenty of the traditional fare,
Brought three pounds back to me
With an awful night of near no sleep.

The binge is good when it goes down
But as it settles, winding its way through,
I must say, “It’s not all that.”
Tonight is the first Xmas party,
The potential for gluttony on tap again,
Maybe this round I’ll appreciate
What was the most important part of Thanksgiving,
Being with family and friends.

Bunnies not falling,
Time outs to stop momentum,
Basking in the gluttony
Of Thanksgiving’s bounty and reinforced
By a chicken burrito and ice cream…

The winter storage completed today…

How great is Black Friday?
No malls, no traffic
Just an ease with the couch and clicker,
Zones and man to man,
Vitale and Bilas.

As I am writing this, Radio Paradise is playing the theme song from “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.” Why I’m thinking about the craziest basketball practice ever, I don’t know, but I am. It’s too bad that as I write, I think the haters might still be circling the gym at LHS, but I have to get this down. Maybe they have gone away, although, there were plenty of carcasses to feed them back in 1982.

As I remember it, our coach called a practice for Thanksgiving night. That’s right, THANKSGIVING NIGHT!!! We all expected a light practice after a heavy meal, but those thoughts were soon pushed right up next to that extra helping of sweet potatoes I had when the monkey drills began. Nobody said a word because each of us feared that if we opened our mouths that dinner that we were so mindful of might make an appearance.

Finally, we got around to running our offense and working on full-court presses and with the hour getting late, it looked as if it would be time to go. Not so.

“On the line.”

We all thought, “Sprints, really? Coach, it’s Thanksgiving, please have mercy.”

“4 in 24.”

No mercy was to be had. The rule was that each of us had to run a sprint (suicide) in 24-seconds. If we all made it, that counted as one. We ran until we got to four. We ran. We ran some more. We ran a lot more. All our coach said was, “On the line.” He never told us the times. Soon there was a revolt against those who were having a tough time making it in time. The future minister very nearly invoked a spiritual wrath on the umpire’s son that teetered on fire and brimstone. Somehow it ended with us making it to four and no one throwing up.

That practice was bad, ugly, and such a good memory. A year ago I got to laugh it up with some of my old teammates. We all remembered that night the same way, like a bunch of middle aged men who had suffered a little and come through okay.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Note: Since I wrote this post, I’ve started practicing with my team. We are young and not big, but I think this will be a fun bunch to work with. Thanksgiving will be a night off and I will stuff all the food in that I can. I’m going to enjoy every bite without that voice in my head going, “On the line.”

There are some holidays we worship:
Black Friday.
President’s Day.
There are some holidays we should worship:
Veteran’s Day.
Independence Day.
Your particular holy holiday.
Thanksgiving does it for me:
Williamsburg Thanksgiving memories:
Basketball practice with a bazillion timed sprints… (1982, no joke.)
Hanging at Heard’s house… (Thanks, y’all.)
Barbecue??? No turkey??? (Still bitter.)

Happy Thanksgiving, all.

An uneasiness today
With full blown withdrawal
Because the reaper has cast
Such a pall on this day for me
I miss my family
The dead and the living
Even though
We are all together
In some way
Mostly in memories
So the feast is on my mind where
I’m going to grub
On my wife’s most excellent meal
Thankful for her stand up ways
And patience with my lack of affect
Really just thankful for
Her. Every bit.
I don’t know how she does it
Bringing those joyous feelings to me,
The ones masked by stoicism or ambivalence
Both traitors to my feelings,
But she does.
I just know
I would be lost without her
And hungry too
For I probably wouldn’t
Without her guidance
Bring on the bird
Maybe a little conversation too
Most of all just the

The vanquishing is in full force
How long before Thanksgiving
Is gobbled up by the Christmas economic engine
That has spoiled the ease and joy
Of simple celebrations
Honoring family and commitment
All at 40-50% off
It seems that a melding
Of Halloween and Christ’s birthday celebration
Is not too far off
And then the blending of good and bad
Will be complete
An economic trinity
Where sales, sugar, and store hours
Conspire to remove the emotion
From wonderful days
Whose individuality and spirit should not be
Wrapped, discounted or masked
Just so dollars can be exchanged
Treats tricked
And the real reasons for the seasons
Lost on the racks