black friday

I'm getting a little worried, no posts from Beagles since Monday.  I hope it is just some internet glitch thing. 

Thanksgiving ended for me with my sister and brother-in-law drinking coffee and eating pie up in my place, just us old folks, the young folks, my nephews, both pushing fifty, had bolted after eating a free meal at Harry Carey's.  Poor social form.

What else do old folks talk about?  The old days.  The old Thanksgivings, the groaning table in the dining room of the bungalow on Homan Avenue when the nephews were boys, the ones before that when I was a boy and my sisters were girls and the old folks were Gramma and Grampa Janovsky.

Well they were something, the cranberries sliced from the can, the sweet potatoes with the melted marshmallows, stuffing, some kind of biscuits, still hot from the oven, stringbeans. 

My mother used to cook stringbeans with bacon, sometimes little bits of potatoes, maybe baby potatoes.  When I was living in the trailer in Herrin Illinois sometimes the landlady would invite us into the big house and fix up stringbeans like that, but I've never had them since.

At some point we stop eating the foods of our youth and then we get old.


I've pretty much finished my History of the Institute.  I had been hoping the dawgs would chime in at this point.  You know I get up in the morning, turn on Mr Coffee, shower, feed the cats and sit down at the computer, and even as it is powering up I am wondering what will be new in the morning like the paper that thunking up against the door.  I read the post or two, run them through my mind a bit, pick out things I want to comment on, maybe think of a general plan that will pull it all together, take a breath and then I am off. An hour and some change later, I go through it for typos and maybe a passage that doesn't make any sense.  I catch some, but some get through.  Sometimes I wonder why I do it, that's an hour plus a day, five days a week, it piles up a bit.  It only gets read by a couple people, maybe the occasional interloper.  That's all true, but you know I enjoy it, I always enjoy it.


Black Friday.  A couple years ago I came across a post from one of my leftier Champaign pals about how black Friday had something bad to do with Black people, it was kind of hackneyed logic, and really as thin as tissue paper narrative, it was like you don't even need to hit the Snopes button to know it was all bogus.  I called her on it, showed her the Snopes comment, and she was like, well, maybe it's false but there is so much racism, and this is against racism, so even if it is false, it's false in a good cause so I'm leaving it up.  I hate when that happens.