Living in Boston for the first years of our marriage, we never had the money to fly back home for Thanksgiving and Christmas (um, about half those years, we didn't have the money to fly back for either holiday). So, we developed a few traditions for our little family: Nate's Marshmallow Salad, my friend's sweet potato casserole, and I like to listen to Alice's Resturant. I'll have to get the boys in on this last tradition because Nate doesn't share my love of this song. But, it's not Thanksgiving for me until I've sung along with it.
My dad introduced me to Alice's Resturant one Thanksgiving when I was in high school. It's a great little war protest song. Well, it's not little--the shortest version is 10 minutes, the longest is 27 minutes.
It's a perfect tradition for our crazy liberal family and reminds me how grateful I am to live in this country, where we are allowed to criticize, protest, and write freely.
So, remember, you can get anything you want at Alice's Resturant. (And, Happy Thanksgiving!)
Monday, November 24, 2008
Thanksgiving Traditions
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4 comments:
A 27 minute song? How 'bout I drop off the boys, you can sing it to them, and I can get some grocery shopping done? Can you make it 50 minutes long??? Is that too much to ask? Maybe you could tell Eli all the foods he SHOULD be eating to make him GROW!
That is really funny! I will need to listen to it. I also think it is funny because when ever my dad gives me advice, I think he is going to say something serious, then he just says what he always says: "Never Eat at a Restaurant call "MOM'S". I think he must have had a bad experience at a restaurant called "MOM'S, and he really doesn't want me to repeat his mistakes. He even said it at my Meridian high school graduation. P.S. I hope this story makes sense to you, because it doesn't really have any valid connection with your story except the words: Dad and restaurant. Are you sure you want me to write for Exponent II?
I checked several stores in Montreal trying to find a CD with Alice's Restaurant on it last week. But I couldn't speak French, and it was hard to explain that song to a Canadian . . . .
Only those of us who have sat in an induction center while we were poked, proded, and asked ridiculous questions to find out if we were fit to "go to foreign countries, meet interesting people, and kill them" [that was a 60s bumper sticker] can appreciate certain parts of that song.
And Matisse, your dad is wrong. Mom's Cafe in Salina was very good in the summer of 1968, and it was still quite good the last time I ate there, in 2002.
Carrie, certainly, send your boys over--we'll give Eli some of Asher's amino acid calorie-rich formula!
Matisse, yes, yes, write something for EXII!
Dad, did you have to sit on the Group W bench?
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