Where We Come From – The Influence of Our History, Recent or Long Gone

by A. Catherine Noon

For those of you in the States, Happy Thanksgiving! For the rest of you, Happy Thursday! As my family pauses to take stock, and make a feast (and, to be honest, make stock when we take the turkey carcass on Friday and make soup out of it, but I digress), I got to thinking: where do I come from? I’m blonde, blue-eyed, and pale complected; to many in my multicultural neighborhood (and I’m not kidding, there are seventeen different languages spoken just on my block here in Chicago) I am a “White American,” or just, “White.” What does that mean? Am I?

When my father’s grandparents came here from Ireland to escape the crushing poverty of the Potato Famine and political unrest, they arrived to a New York City that hated Irish. Signs saying “No Irish” peppered the city and to be heard speaking in brogue was akin to being considered “White trash” today. I don’t know much about what my great-grandfather did, but I know they were very poor. My grandfather joined the United States Marines and became a full Colonel before he retired after the end of WWII. At one point he commanded the El Toro Air Base in Torrance, California.

My mother’s grandparents owned shares in several banks and ran a general store, among other things. There is a house on the National Historic Register on the Battlefield at Gettysburg that was in my family and is known by my grandmother’s maiden name. My mothers’ family has been here since before the American Revolution, in fact, and we trace our lineage back to a German soldier who served the colonial forces. I’m not sure if that means he was a mercenary, as many German soldiers of the time were, or if he simply came from German ancestry. I do know that he is the only person I’ve found in my family tree who isn’t from Ireland, England, or Scotland.

I remember once when a Polish-Italian-American friend of mine asked me about my background. I showed her the family tree on my mother’s side and explained some of what I know about my father’s and she seemed wistful. Her family could only go back about three generations because of the giant, gaping wound that World War II created. Even if she knew the town in Poland from where her mother’s family came, the records were destroyed when the Nazis and then the Soviets invaded. The information is simply not there.

It wasn’t until I moved here to Chicago and came in contact with a large and proud Irish-American cultural group that I realized what I’d been missing. I’d always felt a sense of not-belonging, whether it was when I was a child and didn’t fit in or as an adult when I didn’t know what “my culture” was. Other friends who had strong ethnic and religious backgrounds seemed to have a sense of place that I didn’t. I couldn’t even claim California as heritage; I was born in Boston. So who am I?

The Irish-American culture here felt like home in a way I never experienced before. All of a sudden, people talked like me and reminded me of my dad and his side of my family. Of course, the “eff-bomb” is a common swearword, but it’s deeper than that. It’s something indefinable. For all my years working amongst, and fighting for the value of, multicultural individuals, I never felt truly at home in any particular culture where I lived. I’m a good mimic and speak several languages, so I could “fake it,” but the bedrock never really appeared for me. Meeting others of my same cultural background changed that and all of a sudden I felt at home in a peculiar, unexplainable way.

I feel sorry for refugees. Not in the way the words “feel sorry for” evoke feelings of pity; I don’t mean that. I mean that there is a deep wrenching loss when you don’t belong. Culture shock is very real and very painful. Not being able to communicate due to language differences is jarring, whether you’re trying to talk about something meaningful or you simply want to order a pizza. I watch coworkers speed up when they talk to non-native English speakers, as though by impatience alone they will convey their meaning better. I watch friends of mine yell into a drive-through where a non-native English speaker is trying to take their order. This is unfair and interferes with the process of communication, of getting onto the same page so we can learn from each other and create something that’s greater than the sum of its parts.

That said, I don’t think I ever really “got it” that cultural acceptance can ease our minds at some deep, unspoken, pre-language place. There is a relief in knowing you don’t have to explain your cultural context, because it’s already understood. It wasn’t until I met the Irish-American community here that I experienced that. All of a sudden, I had a sense I knew where “my people” lived.

Wherever you are today, whatever your cultural or ethnic background, I wish you well. This country, despite what the recent political rhetoric would say to the contrary, was founded out of the simple desire of disparate people to find a place they could be themselves in peace, along with others trying to do the same. Maryland was for the Catholics, Connecticut and Massachusetts for the Puritans, the South to the British landowners, and all sorts of other groups besides – the waves of Irish, German, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, Polish, Mexican, Middle-Eastern… the endless list of individuals who live here and try to create homes and families together. To me, that is what Thanksgiving is about – giving thanks for this place we call home, despite its faults and because of its strengths.

Especially in light of what’s happening in the Gaza Strip right now, home is something we cannot take for granted. If we have homes that are at peace and safe, if our children can play without threat, if we can put food on the table, then we are wealthy indeed. And if you live in a place at war, or not at peace, then may you be safe and may the gods grant you speedy end to the conflict and that you and yours find safety and serenity.

--
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Watch for TIGER TIGER, coming July 2013 from Samhain Publishing.

Thanksgiving - What will it look like in the future?

While the American holiday of Thanksgiving has been celebrated from Colonial times, it wasn’t until the American Civil War that President Abraham Lincoln decreed it would be each year in November. When the first European settlers landed in the New World in Massachusetts Bay, they stayed in their ship for the winter – where they suffered from exposure, scurvy and disease. Scurvy is caused by a lack of Vitamin C, and British sailors would be given limes in later years – hence the term “limey” to refer to a British navy man.

Or, alternatively, to a really scary British father looking for his daughter's killer, but I digress...

According to many, the first Thanksgiving festival was held in 1621 as decreed by the Governor, William Bradford. The festival lasted for three days and is a fall harvest festival. Alternatively, some have argued that the festival in 1621 was not the first Thanksgiving on American soil, but that Spanish explorer Pedro Menéndez de Avilé held the first such festival on American soil.

(Pedro Menéndez de Avilé)

Others say it was in December of 1619. Native American peoples object to the celebration and portrayal of the holiday, saying that it glosses over the violence and bloodshed between the European settlers and the indigenous population already living here.

Regardless of the exact lineage of the holiday in America, it is certainly true that Harvest Festivals have occurred since ancient times. While many of the trappings of ancient celebrations have not survived to present day, gathering around a family table with our loved ones to celebrate with a large meal is something likely to continue. How might it look in a hundred years?

Assuming we don’t suffer an environmental cataclysm, it’s probably safe to say we will have turkeys. I think, though, that due to the rising population of people of Mexican descent, we will probably have other dishes incorporated into the traditional fare. Perhaps Turkey with Molé Sauce (composed of chocolate and chili and spices) will be on the traditional table of the future. It is probable that other sources of protein will become more popular, particularly as populations rise; soy is a viable and sustainable alternative for protein. Tofurky is a brand of today; will we have Tofurkey on the traditional table of the future? (My husband shouts “No!” in a resounding voice, but people a hundred years from now will see food differently and might not be as stuck on having meat at every meal.)

Mashed potatoes are a stable item in traditional Thanksgiving meals, but the starch place on the table is taken up by bananas in a large portion of the world (over 50% of the population of the earth consider the banana to be a staple food). In the U.S., the common “banana” is the Cavendish variety, and these trees have suffered a cataclysmic blight and may well be extinct in the next ten years. This will lead the American consumer to have to select a different banana from the over 500 types available – and it’s possible that one might “take off” as the next starch in our diet. Plantains instead of mashed potatoes might grace the table of the future.

How will we prepare the meal of the future? As fossil fuel prices continue to rise and reserves to fall, it’s probable that what we take for granted in terms of transportation today (trucks and trains, ocean liners and air freight) will not look that way in the future. As the localvore movement expands (placing a strong focus on foods purchased from local farmers), regionalization of the Thanksgiving menu is likely to occur. Rather than the homogenization of the menu, we might have regional favorites – beef in the upper Midwest, fish on the coasts, etc.

One thing uniquely American is the pumpkin. Found in the New World by the settlers, it’s become ubiquitous and a symbol of Thanksgiving and of Autumn (who has seen Starbucks’ Pumpkin Spice Latté?), and as such it’s likely to continue. But with rising obesity rates in the American population, will we continue to indulge in pie?

I hope, since I love pumpkin pie, that we don’t take it off the table but instead change how we relate to the dinner itself. Rather than settle on the couch afterward to watch a football game, what if we started a tradition of walking? Perhaps the Thanksgiving of the future will have elements more like the “Trick or Treat” of Halloween where folks wander from house to house, sharing a beverage and conversation.

There’s another angle we haven’t considered yet, and that’s whether or not we’ll even be ON this planet in a hundred years. Richard Branson is hard at work, developing his in-space hotel, and President Obama has spoken of revitalizing the space program and missions to the moon, Mars, and the International Space station. It’s entirely probable that humans will be in space in a hundred years, so our Thanksgiving meals might be in small packets to avoid mucking up the zero-gravity space we’re living in. Vegetables might be raised in hydroponics on a space station or even a Moon colony. Your turkey might even come from a farm on the Sea of Tranquility (the site of the first moon landing in 1969).

Whatever the tradition, I think some form of celebration of the harvest will continue long into the future. I hope that you have your own traditions and, if not, that you decide this year to start them. After all, “First Annual” is a perfectly fine title for a tradition that could have a long, long lineage.

May you have much to be thankful for and always remember to be grateful.

References:

History .com, “Thanksgiving” A&E Television Networks, 1996-2011, http://www.history.com/topics/thanksgiving/ Accessed 11/21/2011

Crosta, Peter, “What Is Scurvy? What Causes Scurvy?” MNT (Medical News Today),
http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/155758.php Accessed 11/21/2011

Giving thanks for it all

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day here in the US. It’s a day of family and parades and pie, football and friends and laughing. If we’re lucky we get to spend it with people we love. If we’re really lucky, we get to spend it with family we love. This year I’m really lucky.

My parents came south again this year, along with baby brother (The fact that baby brother has been old enough to go hang at the sports bar with the other football-obsessed men for several years does not not mean I have to stop calling him baby) and baby sister (who hadn’t been a baby for almost a decade when baby brother was born) and her awesome husband. My in-laws and a cousin’s family, as well as a good family friend, will join us at the holiday table.

We’ll eat too much, drink too much, and moan too much about what we did to our stomachs when we’re done. After the forth or fifth bottle of wine we’ll tell stories that we shouldn’t, and Friday we’ll hope no one remembers we told them. Or even better, we won’t remember having told them, and if it ever comes up in the future we’ll give the other person a “you’re crazy” look and quickly change the subject.

Mostly we’ll just be thankful. That we’re together, and sharing a special day. That we’re mostly healthy (*cough*), and so many of us will be eating at the same table.

2009 has been an interesting, exciting, and sometimes crazy year. I’ve had one book release this year, and have another coming next week. We’ve had some dark moments this year – I don’t know anyone that hasn’t – but the good days have far outweighed the bad (picture me knocking on wood as I wrote that). Which is truly something to be thankful for.

How will you be spending your thanksgiving? Is there something you’ll be especially thankful for?

Bookish Body Image

As Thanksgiving rapidly approaches, and with the average turkey day meal consisting of some 2000 calories, I keep hearing people around me lament on how much they'll likely gain throughout the holidays and how much they already had to lose--it got me thinking...

If you’re a woman in the world, you’re a person with body issues. Hopefully they’re minor issues, curly hair you want straight, an upturn nose too cute to be taken seriously, things you live with and move on. But all too often they’re major issues that come with negative self-talk, dark thoughts that can number in the triple digits in a day concerning weight, body shape and more. Magazines and other mass media are given the blame for unrealistic expectations, but what part do books play? And if they aren’t part of the problem, have they done enough to be part of the solution?

I read more and more books where the heroine does not have a perfect body by Western standards, many of them romances or urban fantasies where romance plays a factor. This of course is wonderful, but I’m noticing a pattern that disturbs me. The hero, (especially if he’s supernatural and long-lived enough to have seen beauty standards change), is always perfectly happy and deeply aroused by the “curvy”, “womanly”, “voluptuous” body of the heroine. Yay for men who like real women! Our heroine is a different story however.

Many times her negative self-image is displayed on the page and there’s the utter conviction that the handsome hero in question couldn’t possibly want her. It’s real. I’ve had that conversation with girlfriends so I know. But is it helpful? Does it liberate readers to have a main character with the same insecurities they’ve gone through? Or does it make it seem like the heroine is being loved despite her weight/shape/size rather than because of it?

As readers, should we demand more heroines that have found peace with their bodies, or even better, those who revel in who they are? As writers should we work to write more heroines who are bold, sexy, sassy, sizes 12/14/16 and unapologetic about it? And do we fully believe they’d sell? I know I do, but I’m not entirely sure about the industry.

Chick-lit often covered the body-image topic in the aforementioned “he wants me?” pattern of romantic adventure. Or it walked the road of the successful diet where the heroine was finally able to feel good about herself having earned it through sweat and tears and perseverance; becoming a creature worthy of love. I’m thinking we’ve done that dance and can move along. Where are the confident and capable heroines who feel good about their bodies and whose size is a descriptor not an obstacle?

What are some of your favorite books that dealt with average (or near average) size women living their lives without a diet or negative thought in sight? What have you written that fits the picture? What else would you like to see more of on the pages of your favorite genres?

My, this was more questions and than commentary, but it’s what’s on my mind. What’s on yours?

"Happy Heroines/Holiday Calories Ramble" Done

~X

The holiday eating stops here.

My family just headed out for their 8 hour car trip back home, leaving my house a quiet place. But a place with much depth and brilliance, courtesy of my "little" brother and his tree lighting skills. Sis taught him well.

The holidays are a dangerous time in my house. Not just because I don't know how to change a light christmas tree light bulb- although it did get ugly yesterday. There were many broken fingernails, then pliers got involved, and then there were many broken bulbs. Cursing ensued. No, mostly it's dangerous for my waist, my wardrobe, and my productivity.

I've spent too much time in the kitchen and not enough at the keyboard (or on - gulp - the treadmill) this week. I'm so overly stuffed I can barely type today. It may have something to do with the bread pudding with whiskey cream sauce I had for breakfast - and midnight snack, and dessert last night. It may have more to do with all the pineapple casserole, mashed potatos, apple pie, macaroni and cheese, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, grilled pork chops, stuffing, and half a dozen other dishes I've greedily devoured the last few days. Notice "salad" is missing from that menu. It's a good thing I've got kids to decorate the lower branches of the tree, because I probably couldn't have bent over to do it myself yesterday.

I'm going to need a bigger treadmill if I don't stop eating soon.

I've got a bad habit of nibbling while I write, and the three buckets of snack mix (home made, and the best damn "nuts and bolts" I've ever tasted) aren't going to be easy to resist. Especially since I can clearly see them siting on the top of my fridge from my desk.

I need a holiday resolution, and I can't afford to wait unti New Years. More writing, less eating. And no rewarding myself with food, because my willpower is a mythical thing - "Imaginary; fictitious." When I tried a Hershey's Kiss for every 100 words, it turned into "I might as well eat a half dozen, because I don't want to have to stop in mid-paragraph to have my reward".

Today's post is going to be a short one. I think before anything else gets done today, I need to clean out the fridge - and most of what's in there is going to have to be disposed of. But it's for my own good really. If all these delicious treats stay around any longer, I won't be able to fit in my car by Christmas, never mind my clothes.

Everything must go. Except for the snack mix. A girl's gotta have *something* to use for brain food.

Anyone else go overboard on the eating this week? >G<

Marked

First off, Happy Thanksgiving for those of you in the US! Here in Canada we celebrated our Thanksgiving back in October, so it's just a regular November day—grey, wet, cold. But I hope you all enjoy your day with family, food and laughter.

I'm just doing a regular post today. It's about my next book to be published at Samhain, Marked by my alter ego, Joely Skye. Dawn did a fantastic job with the cover. (She also did my other two werewolf covers: The Strength of the Pack and The Strength of the Wolf.) Cover artists at Samhain do incredible work, imo.

Anyway, here is the blurb for Marked, which will be released December 4.

Marked as prey, Alec refuses to fall for a werewolf. Until he’s forced to turn to Liam for protection.

Alec Ryerson carries a scar over his heart and scars on his psyche, ugly reminders of a nightmare that still doesn’t seem quite real. Even a year later, he stays inside on full-moon nights and avoids most people—until he meets the strange and beautiful Liam.

Liam feels an undeniable pull toward Alec. However Liam is a werewolf; Alec is a human who clearly has trepidations about a relationship. Then Liam discovers he is not the first werewolf Alec has encountered. Alec has been marked for death by the murderous “quad”, a group of twisted werewolves who prey on humans. Now the quad’s sights are set on recruiting Liam’s eight-year-old brother into their murderous pack.

Liam will do everything in his power to protect both his brother and Alec from the wolves, even if it means calling in favors and killing those with whom he once ran.

Because Alec, like it or not, is Liam’s chosen mate.

Happy Thanksgiving

Yes, it is a day early, but since this is my day to blog and it is the day before Thanksgiving, I'd like to talk about what I'm thankful for. Of course, there's my family, my job, and my life. But, I'd like to thank the readers and reviewers. Your feedback goes a long way in making my smile brighter and making me want to keep writing just because you've let me know you like my stories. Believe me, you've helped me through some tough times, and I wanted to let you know that you do make a difference.

I know it seems like it doesn't sometimes, but you do. Whether you're a reviewer for a website, or just a reader with an opinion, every word, good or bad, matters. It, as much as money, is bread and butter, it helps direct me, shows me where I might have strayed and maybe leads me back to where I need to be. So..


Happy Thanksgiving to all of you out there.


Jenna

Thanksgiving Paranormal Style

This is a fried turkey, which if you must know is the only way we eat it down here in Bayou Country.

Since it’s almost that time, I thought I'd post a little day in the life of Gilda, Suburbia’s Own Very Desperate Housewitch. It’s a normal Thanksgiving in a peaceful suburban household, until we give it a paranormal twist. Read on and with my favorite blessing.. Amen and Dig in.

Hello! I'm Gilda, welcome to my humble abode here in Paranormaville USA. We're located a bit left of center, down a path that is a little less traveled. You're welcome to join us, just mind the garden gnomes, they bite.

Come right on in, please ignore the mess.. you'll notice we're pretty normal, except for the fact that the pumpkin pie was teleported to the table by good old Uncle Joe. He’s been able to do that since they put the steel plate in his head after the war, dontcha know? Yeah, Uncle Joe, we really love it when you poof frogs in grandpa’s underpants. Man, lookit him go, hey, he forgot his walker! Too bad you can’t do that with cranberry sauce. Now that would be a useful talent so I wouldn't have to beg my teenaged son to go to the store. Any other day he'd be nagging me for the keys. *mutters*

What's that noise? Oh it's great-Aunt Milly in the living room, talking to the dog. Of course, the dog talks back and he’s bitching about losing five bucks on the football game. Doesn’t he know better than to bet against a psychic? I learned that after she bilked me out of my allowance--in the third grade.

You'd better grab a seat, the rest of the family are starting to drift in. I do mean that literally, levitating is easier and it also keeps them from getting their shoes dirty. Since the incident with She Who Shall Not Be Named (Psst! my brother Max’s ex-wife Shelia) who tried to put a spell on him but missed hitting the surrounding grass instead it’s been impossible to grow anything but mud, much to my mother’s everlasting horror. She’d been trying for Lawn of the Year that spring. Sometimes, I think she’d rather it had hit Max instead of her prize roses.

But that’s in the past, we’re all one big happy family now—except for Shelia who can’t break the magical restraining order, thank Justice. And I mean it's a big family, cousins, uncles, aunts, outlaws, and the inevitable in-laws too. Ick. However, in the name of the holiday we sit down at the table, together and give thanks for all that we have. Paranormal or normal it's the same.

Oh dear look at those feathers fly! The turkey just came back to life! It seems my husband’s little sister, Heather, the vegan, hasn’t gotten the hang of her powers yet. Gahh, puberty has gotta be a bitch when you’re a teen witch! Of course, you realize this means that my mother-in-law really is a witch. And you norms thought you had it bad, huh? Oh well, I guess grandpa will have to carve us up pizza again this year.

Happy Thanksgiving from Gilda and of course from me..


Jenna Leigh