I will never not love Thanksgiving - The Devil's Desk with Old Nick

I hope everyone is enjoying a pleasant Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. I have always had a soft spot for Thanksgiving. It is an unusually civilized holiday. People gather around a table, eat too much, tell stories about relatives, express gratitude for what they have and then quietly loosen their belts when nobody is looking. There is very little shouting, comparatively little commerce and, most importantly, a strong cultural expectation that everyone should be nice to one another. I find that refreshing. I have spent a considerable amount of time observing humanity, and I can assure you that niceness is considerably rarer than people like to admit.

 

I am especially fond of the moment when someone asks everyone at the table to identify something for which they are thankful. People usually mention family, friends, good fortune, a successful harvest or some other wholesome thing. I have never been asked to participate, which I think is probably for the best. I have quite a list, and I would not want to make anyone uncomfortable before dessert. Still, I have been thinking about gratitude this week, and I have decided that I am grateful for this newspaper, this comfortable chair and the opportunity to continue explaining why I remain firmly opposed to the Betty White statue.

 

I have seen this sort of thing happen before, and it never ends well for me. The problem with local history is that it has a habit of making people care about where they live. They begin with a plaque and end up digging through old photographs. They start asking questions. They discover that the street they drive down every day used to look completely different, or that somebody’s great-great-grandfather owned a business where there is now a parking lot.

 

There is also the tourism problem. Suppose people come to Wingham specifically to see the statue. They stop for lunch. They visit local businesses. They ask what else there is to see. Someone tells them about another historic site. They stay a little longer. They learn something else about the community. They go home and tell their friends. This is how it spreads. I have tried to contain these things before. History is remarkably difficult to stop once people become interested in it, and tourism is an especially dangerous accomplice because it tends to bring cameras.

 

Thanksgiving makes the whole matter even more difficult. This is a holiday built around gratitude, family and remembering what matters. People are encouraged to think about their roots. They gather with relatives and tell old stories. They look at photographs. They ask questions about grandparents and great-grandparents. They discover connections they did not know existed. So I will make my position as gently as possible. I am grateful for the story of Margaret Hobbs. I am grateful that Wingham has an unusual connection to Betty White. I am grateful that historians have taken the time to uncover and preserve that connection. I am even grateful that people care enough about their community to consider commemorating it. I simply do not think the answer needs to be a statue.

 

This brings me, rather naturally, to The Rolling Stones. I have a small professional disagreement with “Sympathy for the Devil”. I want to be clear that I have nothing against the song. It is clever, theatrical and undeniably memorable, and I acknowledge that the musicians knew what they were doing. My objection is that they speak for me without permission. Imagine if I wrote a song called “Sympathy for Mick Jagger” and spent four minutes describing his life, his thoughts and his alleged involvement in various historical events. I suspect Mr. Jagger might feel that I had overstepped. He might reasonably point out that he is perfectly capable of speaking for himself. I feel much the same way. I have never authorized the Rolling Stones to publish my memoirs.
I have also been keeping an eye on the people who used to write The Chaff. They remain in Hell, where I have arranged for them to do useful work. I am not an unreasonable employer. They have chairs, desks, pencils and adequate lighting. Their principal responsibility is proofreading an administrative document called Application for Correction of Previously Submitted Application for Reconsideration. 

 

So, enjoy the Thanksgiving weekend. Eat well, be kind, ask your relatives about their family history and take an interest in the place you call home. Give thanks for the people around your table and for the people who came before you. If you find yourself discussing the possibility of a Betty White statue, however, please remember that I have given the matter considerable thought. I remain firmly opposed, but I am grateful for the opportunity to explain why. 

 

And really, when Old Nick is asking everyone to be reasonable, the least you can do is listen.

 

Bop bah bah doo bop, Jazz!