There’s a delightful story about a man who goes out for dinner only once a year, when he attends the annual dinner of a club he belongs to. The following night he looks up from their evening meal and exclaims to his wife, “Thank God for a night at home!”
I wonder if he was a Keele. The coming of autumn cheers my hobbit heart because it’s time to bring out the carpets and the warm throws, polish the brass, and light the fireplace. While our friends explore the world, I travel through books and film. Right now, I am watching alternative history — The Man in the High Castle time-travels us back to the early sixties, to a North America which has lost WW2 and is suffering under the occupation of the Japanese in the West and the Germans in the East. The “What If?” premise has always interested me and this series is particularly well done; I spent my teenage years reading speculative fiction although I don’t remember this particular Philip K. Dick story, The three-season series is so believable that, once you grant several assumptions, it’s downright scary.
In a present moment which too is becoming getting scarier by the month, the mesmerizing Kavanagh confirmation was unfortunately non-fiction as we sat agape, witness to the intemperate rage of someone who feared he at the last hour might be denied his prize -- a permanent position of enormous power and influence. Jon and I, reeling with dismay, also watched Frontline’s documentary on Trump’s record. That sent me to read Lichtman’s book The Case for Impeachment, which is informative and persuasive. I also recommend A Higher Purpose, which illustrates that it’s not just James Comey’s substantial height which places him head and shoulders above the fray. The world continue to present to us not only with anti-heroes but thankfully those too who live by principle.
So we may be home but we are happily so. To ice the cake, this Thanksgiving weekend the house was alive with friends and family. The fridge is full of autumn crops, including my favourite Honey Crisp apples.
Whenever we had time, our little family headed outside to see the colours (Jon cycling or walking with me while Theodore schmoozed shamelessly). The parks were full of families of all races and religions walking the trails and exchanging "Happy Thanksgiving" greetings. So many homes -- our country, our city, our old house. Lucky, lucky, lucky.