Thanksgiving (still) Comes First!

I believe this is a first for me. For it is (largely) a repeat of last year's post.

But here it is, because I believe this topic is just that important.

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Most of you who come here also read my dear friend Sully.

Which means you are already familiar with the topic of Today's Post.

The One Where Thanksgiving Comes First.

Last year, Sully wrote:

"If you believe, as I do, that Thanksgiving should play out before Christmas; that Christmas carols should not be heard on the radio before at least Thanksgiving evening; that advertisers who dare to encroach upon Thanksgiving with their hideous advertisements should be told in no uncertain terms that you will not shop at their establishments; that malls who put Santa Claus on display before Veterans Day should be made ashamed of themselves; then please consider doing what I'm going to ask of you.

Should you be as incensed as I am concerning Christmas schlock, please post a "Thanksgiving Comes First" entry on your blog. Write from the heart. Everybody who visits your blog will know how you feel. Perhaps they'll also write about it, and so will their friends, and so on. I hope that, if enough of us do this, we might make some small impact.

Please title your post "Thanksgiving Comes First". If we all do that, it will make a bigger impact. If you wish to reference this post, or other posts with a similar title, please do so. It isn't mandatory. I'm not looking to drive people to my blog; I'm just trying to make a difference concerning something that truly rankles me."

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The premise is - as with all brilliant ideas - wonderfully and delightfully simple. Thanksgiving comes first. Before Christmas. Before December. Before Santa, elves, and reindeer, packages, presents and holiday gear.

Thanksgiving comes first.

When I was a child, one of the things I looked forward to most was December 1st, when - as if by magic - all of the stores were suddenly bursting with Christmas goodies. Overnight the stores were transformed, and they went from being regular old department stores to Winter Wonderlands, decorated with shiny tinsel, and piles of white, fluffy soapflakes that doubled for snow. Christmas music would fill the air - even on the sidewalks, you could hear Steve & Edye singing "The Christmas Waltz", and Julie Andrews warbling "I'll Be Home For Christmas". There was new merchandise, too; exotic gift items that were only seen during the Holiday Season. It was all so exciting and glamorous to my little self.

But before all of that - before we donned our gay apparel to brave the stores, and buy our tree - before that?

Thanksgiving comes first.

Thanksgiving is more than just the unofficial start of the Holiday Season. Thanksgiving is, in and of itself, an important holiday event. But increasingly we are rushing through (and even past) Thanksgiving in the run up to Christmas. Not only are we losing the meaning, and the traditions of Thanksgiving in the rush to Christmas, but we have cheapened and diluted everything about Christmas as well.

Thanksgiving comes first.

Many years ago, I was a retail manager. Later, I was a retail buyer - a purchasing agent for a small, local chain of three stores. I understand, perhaps better than most, the mechanics by which merchandise will arrive in the stores at the appropriate time for the season.

Which is why I am uniquely qualified to tell you something:

The reason - the one and only reason that Christmas-related merchandise shows up in your local shopping venues in October (and increasingly September) is simply that "retail experts" have found that we (the buying public) buy more Christmas stuff the longer it is displayed. They create a false sense of urgency - putting out the merchandise early so that shoppers will believe they must buy NOW or risk never having that Christmas Widget (at a special "pre-season" sale price, of course). And, as stores have learned how to tighten inventory levels so that there is less and less chance of the big after-Christmas clearance sales that the American consumer has come to know and look forward to... shoppers feel even more pressure, believing that if they don't buy it when they see it... they will have lost the chance forever.

Thanksgiving comes first.

Originally, there was another reason for taking early delivery of seasonal merchandise. Some distributors used to offer heavy discounts to retailers willing to take early delivery (and thereby make early payment for) seasonal merchandise. This meant that a a retailer might well accept delivery as early as October for goods that would not be displayed until December. Until the rise of discount merchandisers (like Wal-Mart), most stores would simply hold those things until the APPROPRIATE time, and then display them. Once discount merchandisers began to put out whatever was in the warehouse - because "you can't sell it, if they can't see it" - then the inevitable creep of Christmas backwards into autumn began - and continues to this day.

Thanksgiving comes first.

Regardless of how, or why, we are a nation on the verge of losing something very precious. I don't want to see Christmas trees next to Halloween pumpkins at the store. I don't want to shop for Labor Day picnic supplies, and see paper plates and napkins embossed with Christmas designs. I want Christmas in December. And before that, I want Thanksgiving in November - with Pilgrims and pumpkins and turkeys, oh my. I want each season in it's turn, and along with it, all of the traditions and meaning attendant to that season.

Thanksgiving comes first.

Read Sully's post - and read the posts of his other faithful friends, too. Think about it, and then I encourage you to spread the word as well. The wonderful, amazing, remarkable thing about America is that if enough of us stand up and say that Thanksgiving comes first, something might actually happen.

Sully's previous posts:

2007: Thanksgiving Comes First2008: Thanksgiving Comes First
2008: A Gentle Reminder
2009: Thanksgiving Comes First

Waiting is the hardest thing to do

It was not until recently that I realized how impatient I have become. I'm not alone; as a society, a country, a world, we are all impatient now. When my Mom was still herself, she told me that she didn't really care for the Internet. She thought it was making the world impatient because with the click of a mouse, you could access anything you wanted on the computer.

I think she was right.

I spent two weeks fretting, stewing, and wondering about my test results. The doctor - a lovely young woman to be sure - had promised to call as soon as the results were in, even though she told TW & I she doesn't like to deliver "that kind of news" over the phone.

I told her that I don't like waiting to hear "that kind of news" any longer than necessary. And then I pointed out to her that until you have had to wait for "that kind of news" - good or bad - you don't really understand that particular circle of Hell that you occupy while in limbo. While waiting.

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As I said above, my gynecologist is a lovely young woman. She is young enough that I could - had I parented a child directly out of high school - been her mother. I find it a bit disconcerting. It makes me feel a bit like an old codger who croaks out "When I was your age, missy..." No, I haven't said that to her yet, but I did have to explain to her (and her 20-something nurse) about how sanitary napkins used to be very thick, bulky, and leaky and there was no handy-dandy adhesive (safety pins were the rule of the day) and "wings" were but a dream.

She is very nice, and sweet, and her baby is adorable. She is fascinated by the fact that I went through menopause so early - just *months* after having Twinks - and she readily admits that although she had been out of med school for a while, she is still learning about, and from her patients. I like that, because she is honest about what she knows and what she doesn't. She will readily tell you how many of any procedure she has performed, how many babies she has delivered, and where she goes shopping.


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Finally, the call. She blurted out "I think it's OK - it looks like we got it all!" and then laughed, and said "I guess I should have said "Hello!" first, hmm?"

I told her that her greeting was fine with me. We talked a bit about further logistics; I still have to get "papped" every six months or so, and I have to go back for a check-up to make sure that the site is healing OK. It is something I will have to watch for the rest of my life, but I don't care.

I wanted to get those bad cells OUT OF ME. I needed to get ahead of this - before it became cancer, because the memories of my Dad's death, even 19 years later, haunt me. I know that cervical cancer is all different from the form of cancer that Daddy had, but word cancer still sends a chill through me that I can't begin to describe.

But for now, the waiting is over. The news is good, for now. And that is what matters, for now.

Diagnosis, Dementia, and Dee

Today's post is brought to you by the letter D

As in Diagnosis: Mine, post-biopsy

As in Dementia: Mom's dementia.

As in Dee: My cousin, who is a Nurse-person.

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Dementia is a cruel disease; one of the things it steals from its victims is the capacity to understand and process routine life events. Things that are outside that norm - and that require "learning" (like taking in new information, storing it, and being able to recall it) are now essentially gone to my Mom. To try and explain everything that is going on with my health to her... would be an exercise in futility. It would only scare her, and leave her feeling vulnerable and worried.

So, at a time when I need my Mom so much - her support, and love - I can't even discuss my current medical predicament with my Mom. Once upon a time, she would have loved me right on through this crisis. The dementia has taken her from me, and I will never truly get her back again.

Dee is older than me by about 8 years or so. I have always adored Dee; when I was little, she was just old enough that she got to do all of the cool stuff us little cousins didn't get to do. Like shoot off bottle rockets in the alley on July 4th. Rig booby-traps in the hallway to snare unsuspecting Aunts and Uncles on the way to the bathroom at Granny's house. Sit on the porch after dark with the grown-ups and laugh at Uncle Roger's never-ending supply of jokes, while sipping a cold Coke-Cola in frosty green glass bottle.

Luckily, Dee loved me back as much as I loved her. I didn't know it at the time, but things were not good at her house. Dee's Mom was one of my Dad's younger sisters. Things finally got so bad that one summer, Dee's mom and dad farmed out all of the kids to different family members. We got Dee.

It was an incredible summer. I finally had the big sister I had always dreamed of. Dee had a bedroom of her own for a whole summer, and my Mom and Dad enjoyed doting on her. She was the best babysitter ever, and she and I (and even my pesky little brother) spent many, many happy afternoons that summer, playing, walking to town to get cherry limeades, and swimming. When the sun would sink past the western hills, and the sweet, cooler darkness would creep in from the east, Dee would grab some jelly jars, and we would chase fireflies around the yard. Sometimes we would sit on the swings and watch the moon rise, and talk about the astronauts who had just been there. Dee always made me feel special, just by the way she treated me. I loved her so much that when Mom and Dad gave her that extra attention that summer, I didn't even care. I was just so happy that she was there, with us.

Over the years, Dee and I have remained very close. When TW and I got married, almost 23 years ago, she stood up with me as my Matron of Honor. When my Dad died, she held me, and cried with me as if she were his daughter, too. When Twinks was born with so many problems, she called me, and told me that everything was going to be OK. And when Mom came home to live with us, Dee came by to tell me that she was never further away than "a blink and a wiggle".

Dee has been so wonderful through everything with Mom. Her medical background is helpful, to be sure, but I think that more than anything, it is the shared history. She has known Mom her whole life, and has always been close to her; Mom still recognizes, and trusts Dee. I have known her my whole life, and I trust her completely; she is so much a part of the fabric of my life that I cannot imagine my world without her. Just when I needed someone to help fill the gap that my Mom no longer can, there was Dee.

Diagnosis... The diagnosis not good. All of the biopsy sites have come back "positive" for pre-cancerous changes. There are three "levels"; I have some of all three. The "worst" or "highest" level is justthisside of cancer. While it is NOT cancer, it's too close for comfort for me. I'm not waiting around for it to decide it wants to be cancer, after all.

Friday afternoon, I will have a cone biopsy - a further, more invasive procedure, designed to (hopefully) eliminate the pre-cancerous areas, and hopefully eliminate the threat of cancer. As always, TW will be there with me, so I won't be alone. Those results will take another week or so to come back; until then I have these final "d" words for you:

Desire: For a good outcome.

Desperate: For a good night's sleep.

Disease-free: What I hope to be.