I won a turkey, I won a turkey, I won a turkey hey, hey, hey, hey! Well, not even just one turkey - I won three turkeys, and not just me but my dad and brother had something to do with it too. And before anyone asks, not great, big, live gobbling turkeys either : great big frozen turkeys. And so, seeing as it is heading into November and i still miss my US family on special occasions, I am going to attempt a Thanksgiving dinner.
Yes, you read that right - I, an Australian, am going to attempt the very American tradition of a Thanksgiving dinner. I remember the dinner from the year i lived in NJ. I had only been in the country just over a week and my host family had a big celebration with a whole nucnh of extended family. For a young Aussie girl barely used to being on the other side of the planet the whole occasion was quite overwhelming. We had that many people over we had to cook one of the turkeys in our neighbours oven ( i believe they were off visiting their family in another state at the time ) and the kids had to sit at their own table in the unfinished sitting room. We had the turkey and cranberry sauce, of course; brussel sprouts ( umm...eww ), mashed potatoes, green beans and this awesome whipped sweet potato with marshamllows. At the time i thought that was near about the craziest concotion i had ever heard of but O.M.G Sweet vegetabl-ey goodness. Ooh, ooh.... and pumpkin pie!
So there you have it- come Thanksgiving ( which wont actually occur here in Australia, so i can have it any day i like really ), i'm going to have me a big, fat roasted turkey with super sweet marshmallow sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. Oh, and cranberry sauce. And oh, its going to be good.
P.S I had planned on doing a Halloween post tomorrow and i was going to include a picture of the one, and only, pumpkin i have ever carved. However, my stupid HP Mini laptop has shat its pants and died so whilst it is being repaired ( and my other computer is in storage ) i dont have any access to those once in a lifetime Halloween pics. Poo to that! Damn them for being, like, the only photos i havent uploaded to Facebook!
Showing posts with label NJ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NJ. Show all posts
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Why? What for ? How could they ?
The question was asked in my local paper today - " Do you remember ? " Frankly, i thought it was a stupid question. How could anyone possibly forget ? Of course, I'm talking about the atacks on the World Trade Centre 7 years ago today. What kind of person could ever forget the articles and the images accompanying them, even if they wanted to ?
I was in Year 12, my final year of high school, in 2001. The attacks had occured overnight, Australian time, and I remember my mother waking me earlier than usual telling me that two planes had crashed into the Twin Towers. Still groggy with sleep i wasnt exactly sure what she was raving on about - until she made me turn on the tv. I sat in bed, still in my pyjamas with the sheets bunched around my knees, horribly transfixed. I didnt want to see planes punching holes in steel, or desperate people leaping from buildings, or faces covered in ash, a trail of tears tracing its way down their cheeks. I didnt want to see that, but i couldnt look away. I didnt want to see that , and i dont want to remember, but i do.
I went to school early and gathered around a radio with about 30 other seniors. Any 12 or 13 year old Year 7 kid that even let out so much as a peep got threatened with the evil eye and a " Shut the fuck up, you idiot! ". I think it was obvious that we all knew we were witnessing an important moment in history. We Year 12 students were allowed to have the radio news playing in every class that day, probably as much for the teachers benefit as it was for ours. I dont remember which algebraic equations i worked on that afternoon, but i do remember wincing as a light plane flew over my maths class room.
My brother worked at the local McDonalds after school, and i went with my mother to pick him up at the end of his shift. It was unusually quiet, not many families calling in to pick a Big Mac or a Happy meal; i sat at a table staring up at the tv and cried. Bawled, in fact. A totally public place, good old McDonalds Family resturant, and i had nowhere to hide, but i sobbed my heart out at what i was watching. The news reports just kept repeating the same images of people jumping to their deaths. I couldnt help but wonder what last lonely thought they may have been thinking to push them to that extreme. Nor could i help but despair at such a waste of life - and for what ? None of us really knew at that point.
I didnt know anyone in New York City. I didnt even know anyone who lived in the US, but my heart bleed for the families who lives had been irrepairably damaged by such insanity. I wondered what they must be thinking, feeling, hoping, praying; I wanted to let them know that they werent alone in their loss and their sorrow. And i did, by writing a letter to the New York Times. I doubt that it was ever published, by message of support was there on the internet, recorded for all of humanity to see. If i could have helped dig through that rubble, to comfort a crying child who had lost a parent, to donate blood or skin to burns victims, I would have. I may not have been there, I may not have lost any of my people, but i felt it all the same.
It wasnt until i lived in the US during 2005 that i got some insight into what it was really like. I lived in NJ and my host father worked in New York City. On a trip to the local zoo one cloudless, blue sky September day with my boys and their grandparents, I noticed Grandpa Jerry sitting on a fence alone, just staring up at the sky. I asked him what was going on and he told me he was just reflecting - this was as perfect a day as that one looked like it was going to be. If the youngest of the boys had not been born the day before - September 10, 2001 ( happy birthday H! ) in a hospital in Jersey - my host father would have been there, one block from the WTC, when the planes hit. My host father had lost people he knew but luckily had been given a healthy, beautiful baby boy to take his mind off all that.
I dont mean to dwell on these things of course; but isnt that what remembering is ? Isnt remembering dwelling on the past, whether it be good or bad, and whether we want to or not ? Sure, I could have gone through today pretending like i didnt know the date, had forgotten its significance, or focused on sending good birthday vibes to my little H ( who is now big... ). But kind of memorial would that be ? What kind of respect would that be showing those who lost their lives ?
Honestly, I dont particularly want to remember, but some things you just cant forget....
I was in Year 12, my final year of high school, in 2001. The attacks had occured overnight, Australian time, and I remember my mother waking me earlier than usual telling me that two planes had crashed into the Twin Towers. Still groggy with sleep i wasnt exactly sure what she was raving on about - until she made me turn on the tv. I sat in bed, still in my pyjamas with the sheets bunched around my knees, horribly transfixed. I didnt want to see planes punching holes in steel, or desperate people leaping from buildings, or faces covered in ash, a trail of tears tracing its way down their cheeks. I didnt want to see that, but i couldnt look away. I didnt want to see that , and i dont want to remember, but i do.
I went to school early and gathered around a radio with about 30 other seniors. Any 12 or 13 year old Year 7 kid that even let out so much as a peep got threatened with the evil eye and a " Shut the fuck up, you idiot! ". I think it was obvious that we all knew we were witnessing an important moment in history. We Year 12 students were allowed to have the radio news playing in every class that day, probably as much for the teachers benefit as it was for ours. I dont remember which algebraic equations i worked on that afternoon, but i do remember wincing as a light plane flew over my maths class room.
My brother worked at the local McDonalds after school, and i went with my mother to pick him up at the end of his shift. It was unusually quiet, not many families calling in to pick a Big Mac or a Happy meal; i sat at a table staring up at the tv and cried. Bawled, in fact. A totally public place, good old McDonalds Family resturant, and i had nowhere to hide, but i sobbed my heart out at what i was watching. The news reports just kept repeating the same images of people jumping to their deaths. I couldnt help but wonder what last lonely thought they may have been thinking to push them to that extreme. Nor could i help but despair at such a waste of life - and for what ? None of us really knew at that point.
I didnt know anyone in New York City. I didnt even know anyone who lived in the US, but my heart bleed for the families who lives had been irrepairably damaged by such insanity. I wondered what they must be thinking, feeling, hoping, praying; I wanted to let them know that they werent alone in their loss and their sorrow. And i did, by writing a letter to the New York Times. I doubt that it was ever published, by message of support was there on the internet, recorded for all of humanity to see. If i could have helped dig through that rubble, to comfort a crying child who had lost a parent, to donate blood or skin to burns victims, I would have. I may not have been there, I may not have lost any of my people, but i felt it all the same.
It wasnt until i lived in the US during 2005 that i got some insight into what it was really like. I lived in NJ and my host father worked in New York City. On a trip to the local zoo one cloudless, blue sky September day with my boys and their grandparents, I noticed Grandpa Jerry sitting on a fence alone, just staring up at the sky. I asked him what was going on and he told me he was just reflecting - this was as perfect a day as that one looked like it was going to be. If the youngest of the boys had not been born the day before - September 10, 2001 ( happy birthday H! ) in a hospital in Jersey - my host father would have been there, one block from the WTC, when the planes hit. My host father had lost people he knew but luckily had been given a healthy, beautiful baby boy to take his mind off all that.
I dont mean to dwell on these things of course; but isnt that what remembering is ? Isnt remembering dwelling on the past, whether it be good or bad, and whether we want to or not ? Sure, I could have gone through today pretending like i didnt know the date, had forgotten its significance, or focused on sending good birthday vibes to my little H ( who is now big... ). But kind of memorial would that be ? What kind of respect would that be showing those who lost their lives ?
Honestly, I dont particularly want to remember, but some things you just cant forget....
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